0155 


FROM   THE  LIBRARY   OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


Division    <0(SO 


fytfP/fl^ '^U^^y 'sfo^/^t 


'0*^ 


"December  ffltaffl&mZ 

and  Other  Poems 


by  // 

Charles  Sanford  Olmsted 


*> 


PHILADELPHIA 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  CO. 

1898 


Copyright  1 898  by 
George  W.  Jacobs  &  Co. 


To 

Bnna  d&orteon  Cose 

and 

Gbe  "Rev*  fftanft  JSurrowa  1Rea3ort  /ft.  a. 

A  token  of  respect  and  affection 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/decembOOolms 


CONTENTS 


I     DECEMBER   MUSINGS 
II     SALAMIS 
III     SONNETS 

PAGE 

Autumn 37 

Sunset 42 

Subtle  Music 43 

Influence  of  Beauty 44 

A  Pearly  Cloud  Imparadised  in  Meads    ...  45 

Ye  Tears  and  Smiles  of  Holy  Infancy          .        .  46 

Longings 47 

Monastic  Life 52 

Egypt 60 

The  Nile 62 

Greece 63 

Rome 64 

Italy 68 

The  Middle  Ages 69 

Cathedrals 73 

The  Jordan 74 

Elijah 75 

David 76 

Ezekiel -77 

Saint  Paul 78 

Saint  Columba 79 


CONTENTS 


Baptism  of  Ethelbert  of  Kent      . 

Venerable  Bede       .... 

Thomas  Cranmer 

Richard  Hooker      .... 

Launcelot  Andrewes    . 

Joseph  Butler  .... 

Jonathan  Edwards 

The  Church  of  England  . 

Homer 

Dante 

GeorTery  Chaucer 

John  iMilton 

George  Herbert    .... 

Thomas  Ken 

Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge    . 

William  Wordsworth 

Alfred  Tennyson  .... 

John  Keble 

Arthur  Cleveland  Coxe 

A  iMany  Pinnacled  .... 

God's  Tabernacle 

Christ  in  Us 

Is  There  No  Costly  Ointment  ?    . 
What  Myriad  Rivers       . 

Ember  Day 

Blessed  are  They  that  by  All  Waters  Sow 
The  Gifts  of  God         .... 
The  Alchemist 


FAGB 
SO 

8l 

82 

83 
84 
85 

86 

87 
88 

89 
90 

9i 
92 

93 
94 
95 
96 

97 
98 

99 
100 
101 
102 
103 
104 
105 
106 
107 


VI 


CONTENTS 

PAGB 

O  Let  this  be  My  Portion  with  the  Blest          .        .  10S 

Our  Feet  shall  Stand  within  Thy  Gates         .        .  109 

The  Psalms no 

Te  Deum  Laudamus in 

The  Collects 112 

Brought  to  Baptism 113 

Public  Catechising 114 

Voices  of  Children 115 

The  Sacrifice 116 

Elisha's  Bones 117 

O  When  Shall  all  this  World         .        .  .118 

With  Him  in  the  Holy  Mount    .        .        .  119 

Lest  Ye  be  Faint 120 

Joy 121 

Paradise 122 

In  That  Day 123 

The  Peace  of  God 124 

Peace  is  a  Pearl 125 


IV    POEMS  OF  THE   SPIRIT 

The  Faithful  Pastor 126 

The  Temporal  and  the  Eternal    ....  130 

The  Troubles  of  this  Life 132 

Clear  Shining  after  Rain 133 

To  Comfort  All  that  Mourn 134 

Stir  up  Thy  Strength  and  Come  and  Help  us    .  136 

Our  Shield  and  our  Reward 138 


vn 


CONTENTS 


The  Father  Seeketh  Worshippers 

Would  that  all  the  Lord's  People  were  Prophets 

The  Pastor's  Prayer    . 

"He  Wist  not  that  it  was  True" 

God  is  Greater  than  our  Heart  . 

For  Thou  art  with  Me  . 

All  Day  Long  the  Stars  are  Shining 

One  Thing  have  1  Desired 

The  Eucharistic  Hour 

Awake  and  Sing 

A  Psalm  of  Gladness   . 

By  Thy  Cross  and  Passion 

Why  Weepest  Thou  ? 

Easter     .... 

It  is  the  Lord     . 

Easter  Joy 

Divine  Gifts 

Saturday  Evening    . 

Sunday  Morning 

Sunday  Evening 

Eventide 

Be  not  Silent  unto  Me    . 

A  Little  Hymn  at  Even 

Glorying  in  Jesus    . 

Spiritual  Joys 

My  Portion    . 

Where  Dwellest  Thou? 

The  Shepherd's  Voice    . 


PAGE 
139 
I4I 
142 
144 
I46 
I48 
149 
151 
153 
155 
158 
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I6l 
l62 

163 
I65 
166 
I67 
I69 
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173 
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178 
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l8l 
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I84 


Vlll 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 
Introductory 


He  lay  within  the  deeper  shade  of  death, 

And    through    sequestered     rooms    there     came    a 

breath 
Of  peril  and  disease,  and  I,  shut  in 
From  human  fellowship,  no  peace  could  win 

From  books  nor  anything;  and  then  these  lines 
And  many  hundreds  more,  like  ivy  vines 
Upon  the  church  walls,  grew  from  out  my  heart, 
And  did  a  shelter  from  strong  woe  impart. 

December  Musings  let  them  now  be  called, 
And  let  them  bless  at  least  some  spirits  walled 
About  and  weary  with  the  stress  of  fears — 
And  so  my  God  shall  wipe  away  their  tears. 


RBCTORY 
CHURCH   OF   ST.   ASAPH 

bala,  penna. 

i8q8 


December  Musings 
I 

Too  fast  we  hasten  through  the  flowery  ways 

Of  life's  wide  mysteries,  as  if  for  praise 

And  saintly  meditation  few  could  find 

Those  moments  when  at  morn  and  eve  the  mind 


Might  seek  refreshment  from  God's  holy  works, 
In  whose  interior  depths  there  lives  and  lurks 
A  mystic  lore.     Each  calm  neglected  hour 
We  miss  some  touch  of  sweetness  or  of  power. 

But  why  this  haste  ?    Our  time  is  lengthened  out 
For  spiritual  visions,  and  our  paths  about 
Are  strewn  with  lessons  bright  as  dewy  beads, 
When  Morning  walks  among  the  summer  meads. 

Our  lives  are  poor  when  God  can  make  them  rich, 
His  hills  rise  all  about,  while  in  the  ditch 
We  stay  to  dig,  as  if  we  there  could  see 
Some  vestige  of  our  immortality. 


DECEMBER.  MUSINGS 


We  toil  so  hard  and  lose  our  recompense, 
Begin  to  learn  just  when  we're  taken  hence 
What  treasures  passed  us  by  unrecognized, 
What  gifts  and  glories  that  we  never  prized. 

Images  of  Eternal  God  are  we, 

Whose  light  reveals  itself  wherein  we  see 

His  children  pray.     Oh,  why  then  should  we  fret 

Our  souls  away  a  little  earth  to  get  ? 

Arise  and  eat ;  behold  the  ravens  come 
To  bring  us  food  from  out  no  narrow  home, 
And  see  the  waters  clear  as  crystal  flow 
From  heavenly  mountains  to  the  plain  below. 

The  meat  to  eat  that  others  know  not  of. 
The  hidden  manna  and  the  cup  of  love, 
The  palm-tree  and  the  sweet  sequestered  well, 
All  of  His  tender  watchfulness  do  tell. 


Oh,  sit  thee  down  and  rest,  thou  hung'ring  heart 
That  through  long  paths  of  fatal  famine  swart 
Hast  wandered  on  ;  unbind  the  sandals  worn  ; 
For  His  white  robe  exchange  these  garments  torn. 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Anoint  thy  head  and  wash  thy  face  the  while 
And  let  the  waters  see  that  thou  canst  smile  ; 
Take  now  no  thought  of  time,  but  be  refreshed, 
That  with  life's  trials  wast  so  long  enmeshed. 

Thy  weary  cares  shall  pass  so  soon  away 

That  they  should  count  e'en  now  no  more  than  clay 

To  Him  whose  ivory  palaces  outshine 

The  house  of  Nero,  or  of  Antonine. 

His  banner  over  thee  is  love,  His  bowers 
Will  shelter  thee  all  through  the  midday  hours  ; 
Across  the  drowsy  desert  thou  shalt  see 
The  gleaming  domes  of  His  eternity. 


II 


Silence  unfolds  her  ancient  mysteries 
And  scatters  them  like  flowers  through  all  the  skies 
The  light  sheds  forth  a  comfort  more  serene ; 
The  meadow  lands  are  clothed  with  richer  green ; 

The  waters  have  foregone  their  former  pride, 
And  with  a  simple  resignation  glide 
Slowly  along,  but  wear  a  purer  hue 
By  stretching  waveless  to  the  heavenly  blue. 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


For  now  has  dawned  the  Lord's  own  holy  day, 
And  all  the  world  has  risen  up  to  pray; 
Nature  is  charmed,  and  half  forgets  the  while 
Her  deeper  energies,  and  stops  to  smile. 


The  sire's  rich  voice  is  laden  with  a  hymn 
Answered  by  robins  on  the  maple's  limb  ; 
And  softly  sounds  the  solemn  distant  bell, 
Which  makes  the  silence  deeper  with  its  spell. 


We  hear  the  Scripture,  and  lift  up  the  heart ; 
Grandsire  and  granddame  each  bears  out  a  part 
In  Jesus'  words  and  with  familiar  prayers, 
Which  take  far  off  their  sorrows  and  their  cares. 


We  hear  a  hymn  now  stealing  down  the  hill, 

And  pass  out  midst  the  trees  to  wait  until 

It  dies  away,  and  then  to  worship  go, 

Through  sunny  paths,  with  happy  steps  and  slow. 

O  heavenly  is  the  church  on  summer  morns 
Mid  rural  scenes  !  How  sweetly  it  adorns 
The  verdant  upland  !  How  its  tapering  spire 
Founded  in  massive  tower  and  rising  higher 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Than  ancient  trees  around  seems  like  a  road 
Soon  lost  in  light,  that  leads  to  the  abode 
Of  generations  long  since  gone  that  way, 
And  dwelling  now  within  the  clearer  ray 

Of  that  celestial  peace  !     They  once  below 
Found  sorrow's  solace  at  the  altar's  glow, 
And  we  by  faith,  may  see  th'  eternal  light 
Break  into  stars,  and  quench  our  dreary  night. 


Ill 


Sweet  are  the  hours  of  Sunday  afternoon 
Spent  much  alone,  perchance  with  blissful  boon 
Of  breeze  in  some  deep  dell,  and  rare  old  book 
Of  holy  meditation,  from  which  look 

With  vivid  spiritual  glance  the  saints 
That  did  themselves  impart  to  it  with  plaints 
All  penitential  now,  and  now  with  praise, 
And  utmost-reaching  sighs  and  fervent  lays. 

To  be  alone  with  God  at  this  blest  time 

By  Him  made  holy,  and  with  light  sublime 

Of  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost  indued, 

Nor  let  the  world,  nor  time's  great  wheels  intrude : 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


O  this  is  to  be  great,  this  is  to  bring 
Ourselves  within  the  shadow  of  His  wing, 
And  listen  for  His  silence  in  the  soul, 
And  read  the  pages  of  His  secret  scroll. 


And  then  to  walk  along  the  little  stream, 
And  let  the  soothed  spirit  calmly  dream 
Unutterable  things  and  see  the  sky- 
Rest  in  the  waters,  as  our  God  on  high 


Deep  in  responsive  souls  is  wont  to  rest, 
And  then  to  see  the  sun  sink  in  the  west, 
As  life  at  last  sinks  to  its  dear  repose — 
A  truer  consolation  no  man  knows. 


Then  sweet  it  is  to  gather  at  the  door 
Of  consecrated  fane,  where  evermore 
The  holy  voices  of  dear  Christians  blest 
Seem  with  the  tender  glory  of  the  west 

To  glide  away,  and  evening  hymns  and  psalms 
To  blend  with  fragrant  flowers  and  wholesome  balms 
That  through  the  opened  panes  are  wafted  in, 
From  fields  and  forests  where  the  day  has  been  ; 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


And  sweet  to  hear  the  benedictory  tone 

From  God's  pure  minister,  as  in  it  shone 

The  light  of  sacrifice  all  glowing  yet 

From  boundaries  where  heaven  and  earth  are  met ; 

And  sweet  to  spend  the  quiet  evening  hours 
By  household  hearth,  and  'mid  the  opening  flowers 
Deep  rooted  in  our  deepest  heart,  whose  bloom 
Perchance  shall  lend  a  comfort  to  the  tomb  ; 

And  sweet  to  rest  in  peace  with  God  and  man, 
And  wait  His  coming  when  our  earthly  span 
Is  measured  o'er,  and  all  our  work  is  done, 
And  find  in  Jesus  all  our  victory  won. 


IV 


One  picture  ever  wins  upon  my  heart : 
Love  seems  to  struggle  with  the  painter's  art 
To  make  it  tell  the  story  of  God's  grace 
To  our  benighted,  weak  and  slumbering  race. 

Christ  knocks  and  listens  at  the  sleeper's  door 
His  looks  are  sad  and  anxious,  as  He  wore 
Some  pain  within  :  His  alb  is  long  and  white, 
And  all  adown  it  falls  a  tender  light 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Cast  from  a  lanthorn  in  His  hand,  which  shines 
Upon  the  door,  and  down  among  the  vines, 
Which  climb  about,  and  up  along  His  face, 
Creating  a  mild  splendor  in  the  place. 


His  outer  robe  is  royal :  On  His  head 
A  crown  of  thorns  He  wears  as  when  He  bled 
On  Calvary  :  with  wondrous  graciousness 
He  seems  to  come  to  comfort  and  to  bless. 


This  picture  for  a  score  of  cycling  years 
Has  hung  itself  before  my  mind,  and  tears 
Sometimes  give  added  grace,  as  through  a  mist 
I  saw  the  tender  majesty  of  Christ. 

'Tis  thus  Thou  comest,  Lord,  for  evermore, 
Knocking  and  waiting  at  the  lowly  door, 
If  only  we  might  rise  and  let  Thee  in, 
And  so  be  fed  by  Thee  and  healed  of  sin. 

O  when  Thou  comest  once  again,  good  Lord  ! 
And  with  the  lanthorn  of  Thy  sacred  word 
Sheddest  a  beam  of  truth  within  my  breast, 
Stay  Thou  till  shadows  flee  away,  and  rest ! 


10 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


How  deep  into  the  heart  will  strike  a  blow, 
Like  a  strong  arrow  from  a  well-strung  bow, 
When  hymn  or  song  one's  mother  used  to  sing 
Through  door  or  lattice  suddenly  will  ring  ! 

Oh  !  then  the  time  seems  for  a  moment  gone 
Far  back  into  the  past,  as  if  alone 
One  sat  by  her  beside  the  cheerful  hearth, 
And  nothing  knew  of  evil  in  the  earth. 

And  once  again  one  sees  the  tender  face 
With  lines  and  features  of  refined  grace, 
In  which  a  man's  mature  analysis 
Discovers  all  its  light  of  saintly  bliss. 

And  once  again  one  feels  those  radiant  hours 
When  home  returning  to  her  filial  flowers, 
With  all  her  nature  rich  she  would  rejoice, 
Thrilled  with  the  music  of  her  children's  voice. 

Ah  !  happy  childhood  !  would  that  you  could  know 

What  treasures  you  possess  before  they  go 

So  far  away  into  those  silent  lands  ! 

From  which  unseen  they  stretch  their  happy  hands  ! 


ii 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Would  that  you  knew  how  beautiful  they  are, 
With  that  maternal  beauty  which  they  wear 
Along  their  smiling  cheeks,  and  in  those  eyes 
That  gladden  with  their  life  of  sacrifice  ! 

'Tis  only  in  some  sacred  silent  hour 
Long  after  that,  there  comes  to  us  with  power 
Remembrance  of  their  gentle  patient  ways, 
And  love  unspeakable  in  olden  days. 

And  they  remember  us  while  there  they  wait 
To  welcome  us  within  the  unbarred  gate, 
And  hope  and  trust  and  pray  that  all  is  well 
With  souls  for  whom  their  tears  so  often  fell. 

And  we  remember  them,  oh  !  heart,  be  brave, 
He  who  saves  them  will  their' s  with  glory  save. 
With  grace  He  will  thy  aspirations  cherish, 
The  child  of  many  prayers  shall  never  perish  ! 


VI 


Time  ministers  to  forgetfulness, 
And  happy  are  we  that  the  more  or  less 
Of  sorrow  in  our  past  fades  out  of  view, 
As  stormy  clouds  pass  out  of  heaven's  blue. 


12 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


If  some  great  joy  stand  out  upon  our  life, 

And  some  great  grief  survive  the  dreadful  strife, 

We  often  draw  new  pleasure  from  the  joy, 

And  slightly  with  the  grief  our  thoughts  employ. 


Within  the  true  and  real  joys  we  had 
Still  do  we  find  new  things  to  make  us  glad, 
And  see  how  kind  our  Heavenly  Father  is 
To  turn  old  fountains  to  perennial  bliss. 

A  father's  care,  a  mother's  constant  love 

Will  brighten  for  us  long,  although  above 

In  other  realms  they  shine,  and  friendships  kind 

Will  cheer,  though  friends  themselves  to  us  are  blind. 

Sermons  and  books  and  voices  of  the  past 
We  love  and  cherish  more  than  all  the  last 
That  come  confusedly  across  our  way, 
Mingling  great  thoughts  with  trifles  of  a  day. 

WThen  traveling  with  our  faces  looking  back 
The  higher  landscape  seems  upon  our  track 
To  hasten  as  the  lower  falls  away 
And  fades  upon  our  sight  to  formless  gray. 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


So  on  our  minds  the  nobler,  better  things 
Loom  in  their  grandeur,  as  on  purple  wings  ; 
But  tame  and  toneless  shadows  of  the  time 
Pass  out  of  life,  and  leave  the  world  sublime. 


VII 


A  purple  cloud  draped  in  a  golden  mist 
Stooped  down  to  Ocean's  brow,  and  gently  kist 
His  whitened  locks,  and  looked  in  his  soft  eyes, 
Wondering  that  such  angers  should  arise. 

To-morrow  will  that  cloud  be  far  away, 
And  Ocean  will  be  up  at  dawn  of  day 
Spending  his  arrows  at  the  morning  sun, 
And  girding  up  his  loins  to  leap  and  run 

Before  his  chariot ;  he'll  catch  the  beams 
That  from  its  axle  fly,  and  swift  as  streams 
That  roll  down  mountain  sides  he'll  onward  rush 
Singing  and  shouting  with  a  rapturous  blush. 

Eternal  youth  lurks  in  the  Ocean's  heart, 
The  centuries  as  they  pass  cannot  impart 
To  his  deep  lusty  life  their  long  decay, 
Though  he  so  oft  reflect  their  image  gray. 


14 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


And  that  unbounded  life  that  waits  us  there, 
Above  the  weakness,  sinfulness  and  care 
Of  all  this  world,  glows  with  a  Godlike  strength, 
Pulsing  with  joy  in  depth  and  breadth  and  length. 

VIII 

In  slumbrous  moments  by  the  open  fire, 
When  tongues  of  flame  seem  like  the  soul's  desire 
For  things  above,  and  in  the  twilight  hour 
Illumine  faces  on  the  walls  with  power, 

And  bring  the  past  again  and  waken  hope, 
And  golden  doors  upon  the  future  ope  ; 
What  bliss  it  is,  if  mingling  with  half-thought, 
A  low,  soft,  distant  strain  by  him  is  caught, 

Who  sits  and  muses,  wondering  at  all  things, 
And  vaguely  hoping  that  the  one  who  sings 
Is  not  a  thing  of  earth  and  time,  but  sails 
Down  avenues  of  rosy  light,  that  pales 

And  brightens  oft  with  subtle  inward  change, 
And  brings  high  messages  so  sweet  and  strange 
And  full  of  dim  and  solemn  mystery, 
Like  songs  of  gladness  in  eternity  ! 


*5 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


IX 


Dim  starlit  waters  overhung  with  trees 
On  either  bank  dwell  in  the  memories 
Of  life  within  my  brain.     Oft  would  I  glide 
Wherever  I  was  carried  by  the  tide, 

And  let  the  dark  mysterious  shadows  sink 
In  my  deep  soul,  and  feel  the  bonds  that  link 
Us  to  the  world  unseen,  in  wonder  lost 
And  awe,  but  in  a  pleasing  sadness  most. 

What  solemn  bliss  attends  the  thought  of  death, 
Death  that  is  good  and  Christian,  when  the  breath 
Is  laden  with  the  fragrance  of  a  prayer 
And  goes  to  mingle  with  a  freer  air  ! 

How  calm  is  death,  when  we  have  drifted  past 
The  world's  high  towers,  and  find  ourselves  at  last 
Out  where  mild  glories  of  the  milky  way 
Seem  like  the  path  to  our  immortal  day! 

How  sweet  is  death  when  all  our  work  is  done, 
And  holy  darkness  separates  each  one 
From  all  but  God  !  for  'tis  the  light  removes 
Those  barriers  the  pensive  spirit  loves. 


16 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


How  kind  is  death  which  comes  to  give  release 
To  souls  long  waiting  for  the  endless  peace, 
Who  here  knew  little  but  cold  wintry  rains 
And  hailstones  rattling  on  the  window  panes  ! 

How  fair  is  death  that  calls  us  in  the  breeze, 

Soft  as  the  murmur  of  the  summer  seas, 

And  guides  our  bark  beyond  the  freshening  tide 


How  merciful  is  death  that  calms  our  fears, 
And,  if  we  shed  them,  wipes  away  our  tears  ; 
And  though  the  billows  rise  and  round  us  break, 
Keeps  us  within  the  rising  moon's  white  wake  ! 

How  beautiful  is  death  that  o'er  us  bends 
To  sooth  the  drooping  spirit  when  it  lends 
Itself  to  dreamless  languors,  and  the  swoon 
"Which  at  the  haven  will  be  ended  soon  ! 


X 


As  those  who  suffer  through  the  winter  time 
Will  think  with  longing  of  some  milder  clime, 
Where  gentle  airs  are  not  afraid  to  play 
Among  white  roses  which  adorn  the  way. 


17 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


So  do  our  wistful  spirits  often  long 
To  see  the  country  of  perpetual  song, 
Where  pain  is  not  and  sorrow  is  unknown, 
Where  peace  and  spring-like  summer  reign  alone. 

Beyond  our  vision  lies  the  heavenly  realm, 

The  hope  of  seeing  which  will  overwhelm 

Us  often  with  unconquerable  joy, 

And  with  some  rapturous  song  our  tongues  employ. 

How  could  we  live  among  these  earthly  scenes, 
Fair  as  they  are,  and  always  gracious  means 
Of  echoing  things  beyond,  if  they  could  last, 
And  those  fade  out,  as  visions  of  the  past. 

As  shadows  of  the  things  which  shall  endure, 
Invincible  and  everlasting  :  pure 
As  morning  on  the  hills,  how  dear  they  are, 
Clear  and  bright  images  of  things  afar ! 


But  oh !  the  substance — heavenly  things  themselves- 
In  whose  vast  depths  the  unsphered  spirit  delves 
For  hidden  glories  of  eternal  mind, 
As  new  to  us  as  colors  to  the  blind  ! 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


A  little  while,  a  few  more  days  below, 
And  on  our  eyes  shall  open  all  the  glow 
And  gladness  of  those  ever-shining  lands, 
Where  spirits  beckon  with  their  happy  hands. 


The  moments  vanish,  but  the  ages  wait: 
Time  kindly  brings  us  to  th'  eternal  gate  : 
The  Saviour  comes,  He  does  not  tarry  long, 
Our  sighs  shall  melt  forever  into  song  ! 

Like  shadows  of  the  little  moonlit  flowers 
Upon  the  grass  we  live  our  mortal  hours  ; 
Like  dewdrops  caught  up  by  the  morning  sun 
To  our  Creator's  arms  we  quickly  run. 

In  dying  we  shall  throw  across  the  grave 
A  shadow  like  a  bird's  upon  the  wave ; 
O'er  which  with  quivering  wing  she  flies 
To  sing  her  bright  song  in  the  morning  skies. 

Like  billows  fleeting  o'er  the  aged  sea 
So  are  our  years  in  God's  eternity  ; 
They  pass  away  but  that  shall  still  endure, 
Life  passes,  but  the  longer  life  is  sure ! 


'9 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


XI 


Who  has  not  felt  the  pressure  of  a  power 
Unseen,  when  at  the  solemn  twilight  hour 
He  stood  within  some  ancient  fane  most  fair, 
And  saw  the  blended  gloom  and  glory  there  ? 

Through  lofty  painted  windows  overhead 
The  last  great  beams  of  daylight  softly  spread 
Across  the  silent  walls,  and  filtered  down 
Through  arches  dim  like  moonlight  in  the  town. 

Who  did  not  linger  lost  in  reverie, 

To  see  the  halos  fade  and  every 

Saintly  form  grow  dim,  and  long  shafts  of  light 

Grow  fainter,  in  the  heavy  grasp  of  night. 

So  some  do  linger  here  till  very  late 
To  watch  Day's  final  flight,  and  calmly  wait 
Where  shadows  melt  in  shadows,  and  the  bloom 
Of  evening  passes  into  hueless  gloom. 

So  waited  the  beloved  John,  who  sate 

Far  into  night,  surviving  every  mate 

With  whom  he  kept  the  glorious  paschal  feast, 

And  saw  his  master  act  as  Great  High  Priest. 


20 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Our  times  are  in  God's  hands  ;  then  gladly  rest 
We  still  where  still  He  makes  us  daily  blest 
With  love  and  gentleness,  and  as  our  days 
So  shall  our  strength  be,  and  our  thankful  lays. 


XII 


I  saw  long  since  a  picture  sweet  and  fair, 
A  flight  of  angels  rising  through  the  air 
From  out  a  church  tower  when  the  sunset  glow 
Fell  on  the  fields,  and  filled  the  vales  below. 

I  praised  the  artist's  gift,  and  loved  his  thought ; 
And  often  has  the  picture  deeply  wrought 
WTithin  my  heart,  and  made  me  long  to  reach 
All  that  so  wonderful  a  stroke  might  teach. 

Angels  are  with  us  in  our  worship  here, 
Filling  our  poor  notes  with  a  heavenly  cheer, 
And  taking  with  them  echoes  of  our  song, 
Ere  shadows  fall  upon  us  all  night  long. 

And  as  the  angels  from  the  sacred  tower 
Rise  unto  heavenly  places  at  that  hour, 
So  shall  we  pass  before  the  deeper  night 
Shuts  out  the  sunset  hues  so  rich  and  bright 


21 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Angels  of  sunset !  at  our  evensong 
Sing  with  us  ever,  and  enrich  our  tongue, 
And  take  us  with  you  when  our  final  hymn 
Dies  'midst  the  chancel  and  the  arches  dim. 


XIII 

Saint  Francis,  in  his  sickness  languishing, 
Beholds  an  angel  sent  from  heaven  to  sing 
His  ills  away,  as  some  fine  legend  tells, 
Like  Saul  relieved  by  David  in  his  spells. 

Ignatius,  so  another  legend  speaks, 
Preserves  the  music  which  from  heaven  breaks, 
And  sets  it  to  the  anthem  sung  in  choir, 
And  so  all  Antioch  feels  the  awful  fire. 

Sweet  voices  haunt  us  from  the  realms  above, 

Revealing  to  us  all-surpassing  love  ; 

And  if  we  only  listen  and  obey 

Our  sorrows  and  our  fears  flit  fast  away. 

So  if  in  memory  we  keep  the  song 
That  smites  our  souls  with  love,  and  makes  us  long 
For  greater  gifts  and  richer  blooms  of  grace, 
We  shall  be  helpers  of  our  sin-worn  race. 


22 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


XIV 


Saint  Imier  at  midnight  in  his  cell 
Hears  ringing  clear  the  monastery  bell 
That  is  to  be  ;  and,  guided  by  the  sound, 
Like  Abram  seeks  his  consecrated  ground. 

And  so  we  in  our  simple  hermitage 
Of  prayer  may  hear  alike  in  youth  and  age 
The  call  ring  out  from  future  rhythmic  years, 
And  follow  till  our  destiny  appears. 

For  here  we  walk  by  faith  and  not  by  sight, 
We  go  through  darkness  to  the  land  of  light ; 
We  go  through  toil  our  recompense  to  gain, 
And  by  submission  perfectness  attain. 

Slowly  but  surely  we  are  hastening  on, 
Soon  will  Time's  precious  moments  all  be  gone  ; 
O  let  us  fill  our  hearts  with  heavenly  light 
While  here  we  may,  against  the  coming  night ! 

XV 

'Tis  very  late,  and  many  a  weary  mile 
I've  journeyed  on  :  I  come  to  knock  the  while 
Upon  the  door  ;  and  must  I  stand  here  long  ? 
But  now  within  I  hear  their  evensonsr. 


23 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


One  comes  to  listen,  and  my  voice  is  known  ; 
The  steps  retire  :  and  am  I  left  alone  ? 
For  gladness  they  could  not  unbar  the  gate, 
But  now  they  come  :  I  shall  not  have  to  wait. 

'Tis  late,  'tis  very  late,  but  oh  !  how  rare 
My  welcome  is  in  this  sweet  home  of  prayer: 
God's  children  seek  me  with  their  kindly  eyes, 
And  I  sit  down  among  the  good  and  wise  ! 

'Tis  late,  'tis  very  late  :  but  tarry  not 
Ye  who  are  laboring  in  your  heavy  lot, 
Follow  your  guide  and  you  shall  find  your  rest, 
And  be  among  the  happy  happiest  guest ! 


XVI 

Farewell  to  death  !  such  is  the  victor  song 
Of  those  who  walk  th'  immortal  fields  among 
Men  only  once  can  die,  and  these  have  died- 
What  happiness  they  share  at  Jesus'  side  ! 

Farewell  to  death !  oh,  what  a  lot  is  theirs 
Henceforth  to  look  for  life  alone  :  the  heirs 
Of  all  that  life  in  all  its  richness  holds, 
Beholders  rapt  of  joys  it  aye  unfolds. 


24 


DECEMBER   MUS1SGS 


Farewell  to  death  !  and  these  were  mortals  born, 
Who  all  their  lives  the  yoke  of  death  had  worn, 
Subjects  of  pain  and  weariness  and  sin, 
Who  now  at  last  so  great  a  conquest  win. 

Farewell  to  death  !  and  shall  this  be  our  song, 
Who  to  these  lowly  vales  of  earth  belong  ? 
Our  Saviour  Christ  the  answer  can  supply, 
Sons  of  the  resurrection  no  more  die. 

Farewell  to  death  !  O  this  shall  be  our  theme 
When  the  vast  world  with  living  forms  shall  teem  ; 
Like  incense  shall  arise  our  earliest  breath, 
Among  its  burdens  this,  farewell  to  death ! 


XVII 

With  windows  open  toward  Jerusalem, 
Devout,  unmindful  of  all  human  blame, 
A  man  of  God  in  ancient  Babylon 
Through  daily  prayer  celestial  wisdom  won. 

Unless  we  let  the  light  and  sweetness  in, 
That  flow  like  rivers  to  this  world  of  sin 
From  heavenly  founts,  our  labored  prayers  are  vain 
They  leave  us  like  a  desert  after  rain, 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Fruitless  as  ever ;  feverish  to  the  heart, 
Unreached,  unblessed,  unbettered  e'en  in  part : 
Such  prayers,  as  smoke  that  breaks  not  into  flame 
Consumes  no  chaff,  no  lasting  blessing  claim. 

XVIII 

Repentance  from  past  sin  will  not  efface 
All  its  ill  consequence,  nor  e'en  the  trace 
Of  its  own  sorrow,  though  true  pardon  bring 
New  peace  and  comfort  on  its  silver  wing. 

Lo  !  when  God  brought  His  ancient  people  home 
From  Babylon,  that  they  should  no  more  roam, 
Nor  idols  seek,  the  temple's  golden  shields 
Were  not  restored  to  grace  their  olden  fields. 

Not  here,  not  here  can  exiles  find  again 

The  sinless  joys  which  they  themselves  have  slain  ; 

They  only  can  recover  every  gem 

When  they  arrive  at  New  Jerusalem. 

XIX 

A  custom  lingers  from  the  Celtic  times 
To  bury  where  the  bells  or  glorious  chimes 
Ring  in  the  people  to  the  house  of  prayer, 
And  turn  to  music  all  the  happy  air. 


26 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Anear  the  doors,  along  the  sacred  walls, 
Within  the  aisles,  and  chancel  dim  there  falls 
On  grave  and  tomb  the  shadow  of  the  fane, 
Or  light  that  streams  from  some  rich  window  pane. 


And  they  who  slowly  walk  among  the  graves 
And  kneel  within  the  ancient  lofty  naves. 
Will  soon  among  those  ling'ring  shadows  seek 
Their  long  still  rest,  and  to  the  future  speak 

As  speaks  the  past  to  them,  and  like  the  old 
Great  prophet  of  the  Hebrew  race  grow  cold 
Only  to  gain  new  life,  through  memories  sweet 
To  those  who  touch  them  with  their  passing  feet. 

How  lovely  is  the  fellowship  of  saints! 
No  poet  sings  nor  sacred  prophet  paints 
Its  tender  grace,  its  golden  atmosphere, 
Its  melodies  that  fall  upon  the  ear. 

Living  and  dead  within  one  circle  meet ; 
The  gentle  shadow  and  rich  sunshine  greet 
All  that  are  gathered  where  the  sound  of  grace 
Rings  out  to  gladden  Christ's  redeemed  race. 


27 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Distance  is  not :  from  earth  to  paradise 
Is  like  the  step  from  church  out  where  the  skies 
Pour  down  incessant  shafts  of  quick'ning  light, 
Filled  with  a  message  from  the  Infinite. 


XX 


There  is  a  picture  of  Teutonic  tone, 
Wrought  by  a  pencil  dipped  where  softly  shone 
The  hues  of  homelike  sanctity !  it  seems 
A  holy  temple  full  of  heavenly  dreams. 

It  is  a  gathered  family  at  prayer  ; 

The  faces  mildly  shine  as  if  the  air 

Were  interfused  with  indefinable 

And  tender  quiv'ring  gleams,  which  gently  quell 

The  shadow  cast  by  care  and  daily  toil ; 

Or  as  anointed  by  a  hallowing  oil 

From  inner  shrines  brought  out,  such  restfulness 

And  such  calm  eager  joy  do  there  express 

Themselves.    The  father  reads  from  that  dear  book, 
Wherein  God's  face  will  answer  to  our  look, 
And  by  him  stands  his  boy  of  six  or  seven 
Like  some  sweet  little  cherub  sent  from  heaven. 


28 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Over  against  them  sits  the  youthful  wife, 
Whose  conscious  thoughts  are  on  the  Word  of  Life, 
But  whose  unconscious  wait  upon  the  child 
In  arms,  all  wrapped  in  slumbers  undented. 


By  her  the  grandsire's  widow  forward  leans 
Upon  her  staff,  and  with  devotion  gleans 
What  grace  or  mercy  falls  upon  her  ear, 
By  kind  accustomed  tones  made  doubly  dear. 

A  girl  of  twelve  stands  well  behind  her  chair, 

Yet  so  as  of  her  father's  face  to  share 

Her  portion,  as  its  native  kindliness 

Is  lighted  with  the  words  that  soothe  and  bless. 


One  other  form  there  is  by  them  unseen, 
Standing  in  white  within  a  misty  sheen, 
With  hands  outstretched  in  blessings  o'er  their  heads, 
As  when  on  mountain  tops  the  morning  spreads. 


'Tis  Jesus,  who  in  lowly  Nazareth 
Obedient  lived,  as  Holy  Scripture  saith  ; 
And  by  experience  of  our  living  found 
How  rare  and  sacred  is  the  household  bound. 


29 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


A  glory  burns  upon  a  Christian  hearth, 
Brighter  than  all  the  glories  of  the  earth, 
When  through  the  morning  and  the  evening  air 
The  voice  uprises  of  united  prayer. 

For  God  who  sits  between  the  cherubim 
Descends  in  fragrant  cloud  when  holy  hymn 
And  prayer  go  up  from  gracious  simple  hearts, 
And  all  His  love  and  favor  He  imparts. 

Tis  He  who  sets  mankind  in  families, 

And  loves  to  train  them  like  the  fruitful  trees 

In  beauteous  growth,  and  keep  them  pure  and  sweet, 

That  evermore  at  cool  of  day  His  feet 

May  walk  among  them  and  His  voice  be  heard 
Speaking  so  gloriously  through  His  word, 
And  pardon  bring,  and  peace,  and  holy  light 
To  comfort  them  all  through  the  darksome  night. 


XXI 

Egyptian  wagons  made  old  Israel  faint ; 
And  now  the  chariot  of  the  famished  saint 
Awaits  him  at  his  tent ;  he  tarries  not ; 
The  fairest  provinces  fall  to  his  lot 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


In  regions  where  the  ministering  Son 
Lives  in  His  regal  might  to  bless  each  one 
Whose  flesh  He  wears,  with  corn  and  wine  and  oil, 
Such  as  were  never  seen  on  earthly  soil. 


We  seek  for  sustenance  among  the  stores 
Of  riches  manifold,  and  from  these  shores 
O  let  us  take  the  best  fruits  of  our  lands  ! 
Be  sure  He  will  accept  them  at  our  hands. 

A  little  balm  and  honey,  spice  and  myrrh, 
Almonds  and  nuts,  such  it  sufficient  were 
To  show  our  fealty  and  fruitfulness  ; 
For  all  our  living  we  could  take  no  less. 

He  freely  gives  us  everlasting  bread, 
Himself  He  gives,  who  is  our  royal  Head  ; 
'Tis  very  little  we  can  find  to  bring 
To  be  the  semblance  of  an  offering. 

Among  the  scanty  remnants  of  our  waste 
Perchance  we  may  pick  up  amid  our  haste 
A  tribute  to  His  honor  whom  we  trust, 
Who  raises  us  to  kingdoms  from  the  dust. 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The  good  of  all  that  land  is  surely  ours ; 
'Twill  be  all  bright  and  blossomy  with  flowers  ; 
'Twill  shine  with  rivers  of  serene  delight, 
And  all  its  priestly  children  walk  in  white  ; 

And  all  are  crowned  with  radiant  crowns  of  gold 
And  all  move  to  the  chant  of  ages  old 
Before  sin  entered  our  sad  world  so  dim, 
And  changed  the  keynote  of  our  daily  hymn. 

XXII 

Moses  wist  not  his  countenance  did  shine 
When  from  communion  high  with  the  Divine 
To  Israel's  tents  he  came  ;  souls  deep  and  great 
Drawn  upward,  look  beyond  the  gate, 

And  lost  in  wonder  at  the  glorious  sight 
Of  that  most  fair  and  uncreated  light, 
Wherein  all  truth  and  mercy  ever  met, 
Forget  the  world,  and  e'en  themselves  forget. 

The  sight  of  God  we  have  by  faith  upholds 
Our  weary  steps,  and  day  by  day  unfolds 
Such  peace  as  all  the  world  can  never  give, 
And  so  great  joy  as  makes  it  joy  to  live. 


5- 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


It  is  our  truest  happiness  to  fade 
From  self  away,  and  in  the  restful  shade 
Of  God's  eternal  throne  to  stay  awhile, 
Like  John  in  vision  in  the  sacred  isle  : 


To  climb  to  mountain  heights  amid  the  gloom, 

And  find  within  a  purer  light,  and  room 

To  open  richer  treasures  of  His  grace, 

And  count  those  stars  which  do  not  shine  in  space ; 


To  get  beyond,  and  into  silence  come, 
And  meet  with  God  alone,  and  there  be  dumb ; 
While  He  makes  all  His  goodness  pass  us  by, 
Like  pearly  clouds  upon  the  summer  sky. 

O  then  we  see  fair  Mercy  like  a  bow 
Of  promise  stretching  wide  her  arms,  aglow 
With  tearful  light,  her  eyes  shine  wondrously 
As  full  of  blessing  as  the  boundless  sky. 


And  then  we  hear  proclaimed  the  awful  name 
Of  God's  Almightiness,  and  lo  !  the  flame 
Descends  from  His  pure  altar,  downward  drawn 
Like  sunbeams  when  the  sun  looks  forth  at  dawn, 


53 


DECEMBER   MUSINGS 


And  lights  upon  our  hearts,  and  eats  up  there 
All  that  is  inconsistent  with  our  prayer 
To  be  like  Him  :  and  creeps  within  the  door, 
And  makes  that  cheerful  that  was  dark  before. 


Amid  the  shining  stillness  of  the  time 
We  hear  such  soft,  harmonious,  tuneful  chime 
Far  in  the  heavenly  deeps  as  wounds  our  ears 
With  sweetness,  and  awakens  holy  tears  ; 

And  makes  us  wonder  if  our  mortal  sense 
Is  not  immortal  made,  and  if  from  thence 
We  ever  need  return  to  earth  again, 
To  walk  with  sorrow  and  sit  down  with  pain, 

As  if  perchance  like  patriarchs  of  old, 
We  have  undying  come  within  the  fold 
And  border  of  the  vast  eternal  sphere, 
And  sight,  not  faith,  has  made  it  all  so  clear ! 

'Tis  good  for  us,  kind  Master,  to  be  here, 
To  taste  the  hidden  manna  without  fear  ; 
From  glory  change  to  glory  in  Thy  sight, 
And  gaze  upon  Thy  riches  infinite. 


34 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


'Tis  good  to  grow  like  Thee  in  silent  prayer, 
And  daily  drink  this  sweet  and  heavenly  air, 
And  glide  along  still  contemplation's  stream, 
And  see  all  heaven  lie  near  us  like  a  dream  ! 


55 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Salamis 

The  battle  day  of  Salamis  was  born 
Euripides,  and  Aeschylus  that  morn 
Fought  well,  and  at  the  feast  great  Sophocles 
Danced  to  the  rhythm  of  the  sounding  seas. 


36 


AUTUMN 


Autumn 

I 

Hail  !  Friend  and  Sister  !  Clad  in  russet  gold, 

With  orange  coronet  upon  thy  head, 

On  scented  leaves  in  woodlands  will  we  tread 

Together,  while  they  break,  and  skies  unfold 

A  keener  breath,  and  all  the  trees,  or  old 

Or  young,  and  bush  and  hedge,  will  grow  all  red 

And  yellowy-green  :  with  fruits  we  shall  be  fed, 

When  on  the  hills  the  vines  are  overrolled 

With  purple  hues,  and  when  the  chilly  eve 

Falls  on  the  fields,  with  quickened  pace  we  too 

Shall  walk,  while  o'er  the  western  mountain  blue 

The  crimson  glories  spread,  and  downward  cleave 

The  passes  with  long  golden  swords  that  sweep 

Through  paths  wherein  the  shadows  soon  must  creep. 

II 
Thou  walkest  through  the  land  all  silently, 
Autumnal  shade!  Yet  in  thy  footsteps  leav'st 
A  hue  of  deeper  tone  :  and  where  thou  cleav'st 
The  forests  with  thy  frosty  breath  they  sigh, 
And  shed  their  foliage  on  the  earth  to  die. 
I  wonder  if  thou  ever  fondly  griev'st 
When  from  the  hills  and  vales   thou  gently  reav'st 


37 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Their  silvery  beauty,  soft  and  summery  ! 

Dear  wondrous  daughter  of  the  changing  skies  ! 

Thou  teachest  us  how  all  things  mortal  fade, 

But  also  this — that  something  beautifies 

The  passage  to  the  grave,  and  that  the  shade 

Of  Death  puts  on  its  sunset  hues  when  flies 

The  spirit  home,  weary  but  unafraid. 


Ill 


Thy  ripening  touch  is  on  the  harvest  field, 
Thy  smile  austere  yet  kind  is  in  the  sky, 
And  glory  follows  in  thy  path.     On  high 
Thou  flingest  forth  thy  banners,  and  thy  shield 
Of  every  leaf  is  wrought.     Now  thou  dost  wield 
The  sickle  and  the  axe — thy  weapons  bright — 
And  closest  in  the  day  with  earlier  night, 
So  thou  canst  sit  with  us,  and  gently  yield 
By  fireside  and  the  lamp — true  learning's  friend- 
Such  stores  of  wisdom,  all  mature  and  sweet, 
As  have  been  trodden  out  by  patient  feet 
In  threshing-floors  of  Pallas.     Thou  dost  send 
The  poet  joy  and  utmost-reaching  vision, 
And  purple  foregleams  of  the  land  Elysian. 


38 


AUTUMN 

IV 

Beloved  Autumn  !  How  I  love  thy  face  ! 
Thou  art  to  me  more  beautiful  than  spring, 
Though  when  thou  stayest  birds  unfold  the  wing 
And  fly  afar.     Thou  hast  a  charm  and  grace 
Which  summer,  with  its  silent  loveliness 
Doth  not  exceed.     In  thy  soft  hazel  eyes 
There  are  such  beauties  and  such  sympathies 
As  spring's  great   blue    and   summer's   black  ne'er 

trace 
Upon  the  heart,  nor  sink  within  its  deep 
And  wonderful  abyss.     In  thy  fair  hands 
Are  bounties  not  less  rare  than  those  which  steep 
Spring's  fingers  in  a  fragrance  such  as  lands 
Arabian  breathe  from  spicy  fields ;  and  on  thy  brown 
Locks  tinged  with  gold  there  lies  a  topaz  crown. 


Sweet  Autumn  !  What  deep  tenderness  is  thine  ! 
What  kindly  tones  are  in  thy  voice  !  Wliat  calm 
Tranquility  adorns  thy  brow  !  The  balm 
Of  harvests  and  the  blossoms  of  the  vine 
Make  thee  delightful.     Now  the  sun  doth  shine 
With  beam  more  golden  than  the  gold  that  rings 
Thy  vesture,  flowing  wide.     Pure  opal  springs 


39 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Break  in  the  depths  far  underneath  divine 
And  lustrous  streams.     Within  the  wood  thy  spell 
Makes  points  of  ruddy  light  where  erst  the  green 
And  shaded  deeps  with  tender  mossy  sheen 
Were  bathed,  and  soft  and  dewy  languors.     Well 
Hast  thou  given  us  from  thy  abundant  store, 
And  into  Nature's  heart  hast  oped  thy  door. 


VI 


Ruby  and  topaz  and  bright  gold  with  rich 
Abundance  shine  out  here  and  everywhere  ; 
By  Nature's  alchemy  changed  from  the  fair 
Emeralds  and  sapphires  and  silver,  which 
In  springlike  summer  field  and  hedge  and  ditch 
And  every  hill  and  vale  put  on.     The  breeze, 
So  full  of  melancholy  in  the  trees, 
Might  make  us  think  a  charitable  witch, 
Or  fairy  born  to  deeds  of  wizardry, 
Had  climbed  the  boughs,  and  in  a  wondering 
Ecstasy  how  such  beauty  she  could  bring 
To  pass  let  fall  some  tears,  and  gave  a  sigh 
Like  that  of  mortals  weak,  remembering 
How  soon  created  things  must  fade  and  die. 


40 


AUTUMN 


VII 


All  this  must  fade  indeed,  and  quickly  die : 
Would  it  could  last  awhile  in  all  its  wealth  ! 
And  if  we  could  catch  Nature  now  by  stealth 
Perchance  she  might  be  willing  to  sit  by, 
And  let  this  wondrous  robe  unchanged  lie 
About  her  mighty  limbs:  but  mortals  lost 
Their  grasp  long  ages  since,  and  now  at  most 
Can  only  lengthen  out  the  seasons'  joy,  or  fly 
To  other  climes  with  it,  by  melodies 
That  dip  themselves  in  dreams  upon  the  hills, 
And  in  the  visions  of  the  golden  rills, 
And  fondly  echo  soft  ethereal  sighs. 
Dear  world  !  to  me  thou  art  forever  fair, 
And  every  stole  I  love  that  thou  dost  wear. 


4i 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Sunset 

O  sunset  splendors !  flying  far  I  see 

A  bird  that  your  most  sacred  depths  explores 

On  wings  that  doubtless  catch  a  light  from  doors 

Wide  opening  in  you.     How  grandly  free 

It  sails  upon  the  crystal  air  !  I  flee 

With  it  to  you,  and  on  your  roseate  shores 

Would  sit,  while  over  me  the  glory  pours 

From  fountains  of  the  sky.     Eternity 

Seems  drawing  near.     What  molten  mountains  fling 

These  purple  shadows  everywhere  !  My  soul 

Like  that  lone  bird  grows  faint  with  joy:  on  wing 

Of  holier  song  it  soars,  and  in  the  goal 

Of  tender  beatific  light  is  lost, 

Bathed  in  the  wonders  of  that  golden  coast. 


42 


SUBTLE  MUSIC 


Subtle  Music 

All,  all  day  long  some  subtle  music  haunts 
My  soul  that  strives  to  catch  and  hold  it  fast ; 
It  comes  in  shadowy  breathings:  as  if  past 
O'er  folded  waves  in  great  calm  seas,  it  chants 
Remembrance  of  their  song.     For  utterance 
I  sigh.     O  could  I  but  reduce  the  vast 
Melodious  tone  to  shape,  so  it  would  last 
In  other  ears,  and  all  the  world  entrance 
With  pure  unshadowed  sweetness,  I  would  crown 
Myself  with  bays  !  but  still  alone,  alone 
I  listen,  listen,  listen,  till  the  frown 
Attentive  deeply  ploughs  my  brow,  and  groan 
Responsive  rises  from  my  breast,  and  down 
In  caverns  of  the  heart  still  echoes  moan. 


43 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Influence  of  Beauty 


The  air  is  tender  with  the  unshed  rain  : 
Sunlight  is  softened  by  the  clouds  that  roll 
More  swiftly  now  across  the  sky.     My  soul 
Feels  the  mysterious  influence  again 
Of  Beauty,  as  her  fair  and  fadeless  wain 
Goes  slowly  by.     O  that  I  might  ascend, 
And  sit  beside  her  in  her  journey,  lend 
To  her  my  voice,  while  she  makes  ever  plain 
Her  sweet  interpretation  of  all  things, 
And  teaches  me  her  ancient  lore  !  Ah  !  Then 
Should  I  not  dwell  where  everything  has  wings, 
Glide  with  the  stars,  and  reach  abysses  when 
They  echo  what  the  host  immortal  sings  : 
And  visit  only  true  and  righteous  men  ? 


44 


A  PEARLY  CLOUD  IMPARADISED  IN  MEADS 


A  Pearly  Cloud  Imparadised  in  Meads 

A  pearly  cloud  imparadised  in  meads 

Of  boundless  ether  floats  before  my  eyes, 

With  which  my  lonely  soul  doth  sympathize, 

Until  I  wonder  whither  it  must  needs 

Be  carried  far  of  winds  ;  what  flowers  or  weeds 

At  last  it  shall  descend  to  bless  in  drops 

Innumerous  as  weary  tears  when  stops 

Some  heart-beat  here  ;  what  ancient  upploughed  seeds 

It  will  revive  and  nourish  in  some  place 

Unknown  to  me.     Bright  mist !  I  would  that  thou 

Might'st  stay  awhile  a  veil  upon  the  brow 

Of  Day,  a  dimple  in  its  guileless  face. 

But  thou  dost  change  and  pass,  and  so  must  I  ; 

We  both  are  like  the  waves  that  gleam  and  die. 


DECEMBER   MUSINGS 


Ye  Tears  and  Smiles  of  Holy  Infancy 

Ye  tears  and  smiles  of  holy  infancy  ! 
How  do  ye  mingle  and  together  shine 
Within  the  tender  face,  and  make  divine 
The  lovely  child  !     My  heart  beats  full  and  high 
When  in  the  sunlight  bathed  I  see  the  shy 
And  shrinking  baby  play,  and  glance  incline 
Toward  me  ;  and  if  I  seem  to  see  her  fine 
Clear  eyes,  how  quickly  does  she  look  awry 
With  head  cast  down,  and  lips  all  pouting  red, 
Fit  for  a  saint  to  kiss  amid  the  bright 
Calm  meadows  of  the  lofty  world.     The  sight 
Is  full  of  heaven  ;  and  round  the  little  head 
Winged  blessings  move  invisibly,  while  Day 
Shines  softlier  whene'er  she  tunes  her  lay. 


46 


LONGINGS 


Longings 

I 

Oh  !  for  long  languorous  days  in  which  to  dream 

On  solitary  hillsides,  in  the  dim 

Green  light  of  forests  where  interfluous  hymn 

Of  birds  pure-throated  rises  in  a  stream 

Of  tender  melody  to  heaven  ;  and  deem 

All  needless  but  a  little  beechen  bowl 

For  waters  found  beneath  a  grassy  knoll, 

And  fruits  and  berries  plucked  where  meadows  teem 

With  nature's  bounties  ;  naught  should  me  perturb 

Of  earth's  vicissitude.     I  should  give  way 

To  winged  fancy  all  the  golden  day, 

To  roam  among  the  clouds  and  bright  suburb 

Of  that  dear  city  where  the  glorious  King 

Sheds  blessings  from  His  eyes  on  everything. 

II 
Oh  !  for  long  twilights,  when  the  meadows  grow 
So  slowly  greener,  and  the  solemn  trees 
Shut  up  their  stores  of  twinkles  from  the  breeze  : 
And  mountains  in  the  rapturous  distance  glow 
In  light's  last  purple  splendors  as  they  flow 
Athwart  the  world  from  surge  of  golden  seas, 
And  Day's  bright  cohort  o'er  the  horizon  flees 


47 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


To  tents  of  royal  hue.     My  heart  beats  so 

With  love's  delight  that  I  could  hourly  sit 

Alone  and  think  and  dream  and  fondly  gaze 

Far  into  visions  rising  from  the  haze 

That  weaves  its  shadowy  worlds  when  sunbeams  flit. 

Ah  !  Then  if  I  should  hear  sweet  Music's  voice, 

With  what  deep  tenderness  would  I  rejoice ! 


Ill 


Oh  !  for  my  books  when  comes  the  earnest  rain 

To  beautify  and  brighten  all  the  scene 

And  tone  the  field  and  forest  to  a  green 

More  rich  and  deep.     Then  near  the  window  pane 

I  fain  would  sit  and  read  and  look  again 

Far  off  across  the  dimmed  and  mist-wreathed  sky, 

For  then  the  sense  of  freshness  seems  to  lie 

Among  the  visions  of  the  past:  a  strain 

Of  Nature's  melody  with  Tasso's  song 

Is  blent,  and  then  how  soft  o'er  deserts  spread 

The  voices  of  the  steel-clad  knights  that  long 

Have  toiled  to  reach  Jerusalem  !  the  dead 

Revive  and  feel  the  rushing  of  the  wind, 

And  from  their  breasts  ruddier  streams  unbind. 


43 


LONGINGS 


IV 


Oh!  for  my  friends  when  cold  the  night  outside 
When  on  the  sacred  hearth  the  fire  burns  bright 
And  curtains  all  are  drawn.     Far  into  night 
We  well  may  sit  and  let  the  tempests  ride 
Upon  the  hills.     Here  in  these  gleams  we  hide 
Our  cares,  and  let  them  rush  with  quivering  tongues 
Up  into  darkness,  while  we  sing  our  songs 
And  laugh  with  generous  mirth,  and  oft  confide 
One  to  another  our  last  verse  or  hope 
New-fledged,  and  let  the  brighter  future  ope 
Its  visions  not  all  futile.     So  we  share 
Earth's  kindliness,  and  if  all  friends  be  wise, 
Some  heavenly  joy,  some  visions  still  more  fair, 
Some  holier,  deeper  thoughts  and  sympathies. 


Oh  !  for  some  friends  more  dear  than  all  the  rest, 
Sometimes  on  Sunday  evenings  it  may  be, 
When  tired  with  much  emotion,  and  set  free 
From  labors  that  exhaust  though  always  blest, 
With  whom  o'er  gentle  hills  that  front  the  West 
We  may  walk  slowly,  talk  or  softly  sing, 
Or  silence  keep  like  birds  upon  the  wing  ; 


49 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


And  seat  ourselves  upon  some  flowery  crest 
That  overlooks  a  stream ;  perchance  the  sea, 
Spreading  its  rosy  width  of  mystery 
Before  our  raptured  gaze  :  and  then  beneath 
The  starry  beams  to  saunter  home  and  find 
Dear  faces  waiting,  lit  with  love  and  faith, 
Of  those  who  study  how  they  may  be  kind. 


VI 


Oh!  for  an  old-age  far  among  the  hills, 

Where  in  the  distance  rise  the  purple  peaks 

Glistening  with  jeweled  light  when  Morning  breaks 

Above,  or  Evening  with  her  glory  fills 

The  earth  and  sky.     I  want  to  see  the  rills 

Run  down  the  verdant  slopes  like  silver  streaks 

Quickened  to  stronger  currents,  where  the  freaks 

Of  ancient  storms  left  rocks  strewn  like  the  ills 

That  often  impulse  give  to  character 

In  human  life.     I  want  to  read  again 

Mid  solitary  musings,  those  old,  rare 

And  precious  books,  which  for  long  years  have  lain 

Untouched,  and  then  fade  out  all  unaware, 

Softly  as  some  calm  evening,  without  pain. 


50 


LONGINGS 


VII 


Oh  !  for  a  death  most  Christian  and  most  free 
From  fears  and  faithless  thoughts.     If  I  could  choose 
In  perfect  resignation  how  to  loose 
My  shallop  from  these  shores,  then  I  would  be 
Most  willing  that  the  great  eternity- 
Should  almost  unperceived  bear  me  away, 
And  angels  from  the  realms  of  fadeless  day 
Unfurl  my  sails  and  steer  me  o'er  the  sea ; 
While  I  should  think  of  nothing  else  but  this — 
That  I  shall  be  all-holy  in  the  bliss 
Of  God's  own  company  :  and  learn  to  tune 
My  lyre  to  their  sweet  voices  while  I  pass. 
Then  I  may  duly  hymn  His  praise  so  soon 
As  ever  I  shall  reach  the  sea  of  cdass. 


5i 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Monastic    Life 

I 

What  if  the  fact  oft  fall  below  the  aim, 
Doth  that  debase  the  aim  ?     No  one  can  take 
From  Monachism  its  righteous  praise,  and  make 
Its  glory  fade  by  pointing  to  what  blame 
May  blur  the  beauty  of  its  outward  frame. 
All  things  divine  put  on  imperfectness 
When  they  put  on  a  human  robe,  confess 
A  human  mission,  use  the  weak  and  lame 
For  ministers.     This  wondrous  institute 
Not  more  than  others  failed  to  work  always 
A  perfect  work,  yet  to  its  work  more  praise 
Than  blame  we  must  accord.     An  absolute 
Devotion  reigned  within  a  thousand  cells, 
And  answered  gladly  to  the  service  bells. 

II 

As  architecture  had  its  lowly  birth 

In  caves,  so  from  the  lone,  dim  hermitage 

The  monastery  sprang.     Where  simooms  rage 

And  sands  Arabian  erase  from  earth 

The  sandal's  print,  and  in  mysterious  mirth 

The  Lybian  winds  oft  chant  melodious  song, 

The  silent  solitary  soul,  by  wrong 


5- 


MONASTIC   LIFE 


Oppressed,  or  weak  through  spiritual  dearth, 
Prepared  its  bower  among  the  friendly  birds 
And  kindly  beasts  :  the  solemn  multitude 
Thus  driven  from  the  world  turned  deserts  rude 
To  cities:  hermits,  joined  like  gentle  herds, 
In  common  lived,  and  holy  minsters  rose 
By  lonely  streams,  and  halls  of  sweet  repose. 


Ill 


Ten  times  ten  thousand  solitary  men 

When  Athanasius  lived  in  Egypt,  toiled 

For  earthly  and  for  heavenly  bread,  and  foiled 

Satanic  guile.     Europe  the  fever  then 

Received  as  that  high  saint  and  citizen 

Of  light  came  into  Italy.     From  place 

To  place  the  marvel  spread.     The  very  face 

Of  Nature  smiled  as  hill  and  plain  and  fen 

Felt  friendly  hands  caress  their  kindred  soil. 

The  happy  rivers  glassed  the  lofty  towers 

That  from  their  banks  rose  steep,  and  myriad  flowers 

Bloomed  in  the  gardens  blessed  by  daily  toil  : 

While  gentle  beeves  fed  on  the  grassy  lea, 

And  long  green  hillsides  sloping  to  the  sea. 


53 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


IV 


In  wondrous  vigor  for  a  thousand  years 
Endured  the  eremitic  institute 
In  East  and  West,  nor  are  the  echoes  mute 
Which  from  the  happy  hills  and  vales  one  hears 
Of  psalmody  all  sung  with  lowly  tears 
By  men  escaped  from  every  worldly  care. 
It  is  a  memory  bright — a  vision  fair, 
Which  in  the  Christian  centuries  appears 
From  Benedict  to  Bernard,  and  from  him 
To  saints  no  less  revered.     I  love  to  trace 
The  course  of  Learning's  stream  in  gentle  pace 
Among  the  towers  and  through  the  arches  dim 
Of  its  great  homes  ;  and  I  do  venerate 
Its  ancient  ruins,  sad  and  desolate  ! 


V 


A  thousand  years  the  Benedictine  rule 
Made  Europe  vocal  with  perpetual  praise, 
And  changed  its  trackless  forests  into  ways 
Of  cheerful  beauty.     Gates  all  merciful 
Stood  open  to  the  poor,  the  happy  school 
Of  song  and  science  welcomed  callow  youth, 
And  daily  taught  the  knowledge  of  the  truth. 


54 


MONASTIC  LIFE 


Against  the  world-power,  blind  and  masterful, 

Stood  out  this  witness  of  the  Living  God 

And  His  pure  law,  and  made  barbarian  kings 

Bow  down  to  spiritual  might.     The  things 

Of  heaven  put  on  this  guise,  and  here  the  road 

To  peace  was  found.     Religion's  holy  light 

Upon  this  beacon  cheered  the  world's  dark  night. 


VI 


A  thousand  years  passed  tenderly  ;  great  spires 

Arose,  and  minsters  glorious  with  art, 

And  glorified  with  lavish  love.     The  heart 

Is  pleased  as  with  the  sound  of  sweetest  lyres 

When   strikes  this   vision  home.      The   white  robed 

choirs, 
The  altars  gleaming  with  uncounted  gems, 
And  roofs  half  hid  in  gloom,  the  diadems 
Of  light  in  pictured  panes  like  lambent  fires 
That  edge  the  Seraph's  purple  wings,  the  dim 
Far  stretches  of  the  woven  light  and  shade, 
The  banners  by  the  viewless  breezes  swayed 
Along  illuminated  walls,  the  hymn 
That  swells  through  aisles  and  dies  with  sobs  divine, 
Make  up  a  picture  rich  as  monk's  old  wine. 


55 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


VII 


A  thousand  years  the  Western  world  took  on 
The  Christian  vow  from  missioners  that  moved 
Their  light  from  race  to  race,  and  bravely  roved 
Through  regions  inaccessible.     The  throne 
Reared  on  Rome's  ruins  dared  to  own 
The  yoke  of  Christ.     Columba  from  his  isle 
Breathed  peace  across  the  wave,  and  in  the  smile 
Of  Boniface  the  Frisians  saw  the  blown 
Flower  of  heavenly  sanctitude.    O  Anschar  ! 
Denmark  owes  her  joy  to  thee  :  and  thou,  Gall ! 
Art  honored  still  in  Switzerland,  where  fall 
For  ever  over  hill  and  dale  afar 
The  bells  of  thy  abode  still  consecrate, 
Where  on  their  offices  the  brethren  wait. 


VIII 

A  thousand  years  the  greatest  names  were  writ 

Upon  its  registers.     Great  kings  and  queens 

And  nobles,  worn  with  war  and  care,  the  scenes 

Of  restful  beauty  sought,  where  night  was  lit 

As  well  as  day  by  prayer's  pure  flame.     Men  quit 

The  noisy  world  to  study  God  and  self, 

And  triumphed  o'er  the  love  of  fame  and  pelf; 


5« 


MONASTIC  LIFE 


In  vast  dim  solitudes  embalmed  their  wit 

In  myriad  tomes,  now  lost  from  time's  frail 

Memory.   Basil,  Leo,  Gregory, 

Augustine — son  of  immortality — 

Great  Chrysostom,  and  others  time  would  fail 

To  tell,  that  bless  the  ages,  in  the  halls 

Monastic  kept  angelic  festivals. 


IX 


A  thousand  years  the  rising  kingdoms  basked 

In  Christian  light,  shed  from  its  countless  towers, 

And  law  and  liberty  put  forth  their  powers 

Under  its  tutelage.     Calm  souls  were  tasked 

With  peaceful  embassies,  who  fearless  asked 

For  pity  on  their  foes  from  ruthless  knights, 

And  barons  proud  as  Lucifer.     The  heights 

Of  philosophic  thought  were  scaled :  and  masked 

In  Christian  phrase  were  Aristotle's  lore 

And  Plato's  dreams  :  and  gentle  History's  self 

Piled  up  new  treasures  on  the  shielded  shelf, 

And  even  Poesy  that  laid  the  floor 

And  reared  the  pinnacle,  dared  to  indite 

Some  faltering  lines  when  stars  begemmed  the  nigh! 


57 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Faith  and  devotion  always  lovely  are 
Wherever  found,  and  in  whatever  dress 
They  do  their  sacred  work  of  righteousness. 
These  shone  upon  the  world  when  angry  war 
Harried  the  lands — a  spiritual  star 
Set  in  the  Church's  firmament,  and  raised 
Men's  wearied  hearts  above  the  lurid,  crazed 
And  wasted  scenes  of  human  life.     Afar 
In  heaven  they  lifted  up  the  banner  bright 
Of  Him  who  fought  and  won,  and  led  men  on 
To  seek  their  safety  near  the  Saviour's  throne  ; 
Where  evermore  came  up,  both  day  and  night, 
A  voice  of  longing  for  a  nobler  life, 
Untroubled  by  the  sounds  of  sordid  strife ! 


XI 

As  one  walks  through  the  Evening's  thick'ning  gloom 

The  lamps  that  from  the  distant  windows  shine 

Seem  dots  of  ineffectual  light,  divine 

Indeed  in  loveliness,  but  without  bloom 

Of  radiance  ;  but  near  by  they  assume 

Another  view.     Far  out  upon  the  night 

They  shed  their  grateful  beam  and  glimmer  quite 


5S 


MONASTIC  LIFE 


Adovvn  the  path  to  welcome  pilgrims  home. 
Through  long  dim  ages  as  through  mountain  glens 
We  see  the  Monastery's  torches  gleam, 
And  peradventure  think  they  were  a  dream ; 
But  drawing  near  we  find  a  light  that  kens 
The  wilderness,  and  guides  the  wanderer 
To  rest  and  consolation  kind  and  dear ! 


59 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Egypt 


I 

Land  of  graves  and  death,  thyself  art  buried 
Half  in  the  sad  and  dim  Lethean  stream, 
Which  like  thine  own  dark  river  as  a  dream 
Rolls  over  thee  !  what  wondrous  treasures  hid 
In  undiscovered  tombs  we  wait,  amid 
These  latest  years  of  this,  Time's  latest  age  ! 
What  strange  additions  to  the  heritage 
Of  this  world's  past  are  knocking  at  the  lid 
That  long  has  kept  them  coffined  in  thy  soil, 
Now  ploughed  by  many  learned  hopes !  Egypt  ! 
Thou  art  the  world-cathedral's  mighty  crypt 
All  rich  as  treasure-cities  built  by  toil 
Of  Hebrew  slaves.     O  land  of  pyramids  ! 
Thy  mournful  caves  my  ling' ring  fancy  thrids. 

II 

O  land  of  fears  and  shadows  !  could  the  shine 
Of  sun  bring  mystic  glooms  upon  thy  soul, 
A  shine  that  deepens  as  a  burning  coal 
Under  the  bellows,  when  upon  the  vine 
And  palm  it  throws  itself?  Thou  art  a  mine 
Of  carven  gold,  and  royal  forms  lie  low 
Beneath  thy  languid  meads.     My  heart  will  grow 


60 


EGYTT 


Sad  ever  when  to  thee  my  thoughts  incline. 
Ne'er  can  I  love  thee,  nor  can  wish  to  see 
Thy  ruined  Thebes  and  Memphis  :  yet  to  me 
A  fascination  dwells  in  thy  great  past, 
As  if  some  witchcraft  sceptered  it  o'er  thee 
E'en  now,  and  put  a  spell  upon  thy  vast 
Grim  relics,  awful  like  eternity. 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The  Nile 

0  mother  of  fertility  !  Great  Nile  ! 

That  sweepest  onward  like  a  magic  dream, 
No  tributary  ever  mingled  with  thy  stream 
Of  solitary  glory.     Many  a  mile 
Thy  course  is  shadowed  by  majestic  pile 
Of  temples,  and  the  solemn  groves  of  stone, 
Where  now  odd  birds  make  melancholy  moan 
Like  spirits  of  thine  awful  past.     The  while 

1  think  of  thee  I  seem  to  see  a  mist 

Breathe  from  thy  depths,  peopled  with  phantoms  dire, 

And  towered  cities  sunk  long  since  in  mire, 

And  kings  and  priests,  a  strange  and  mournful  list. 

O  ancient  river  !  flowing  to  the  sea, 

What  voices  haunt  my  wildered  memory  ! 


62 


GREECE 


Greece 

Land  of  the  sun-born  statues  !    Land  of  song  ! 
Land  of  the  hero,  where  the  sacred  sea 
Forever  lifts  its  chant  of  liberty 
Upon  thine  ancient  shores  !     Our  spirits  long 
To  catch  the  grace  and  beauty  that  belong 
To  thy  great  teachers  ;  grace  and  beauty  born 
In  hearts  as  fresh  and  native  as  the  morn 
That  breaks  upon  thy  hills.     Thy  subtle  tongue 
Lives  yet,  and  richly  flows  from  myriad  lips 
Like  honey  from  Hymettus,  and,  O  Greece  ! 
We  sail  forever  for  the  golden  fleece, 
And  with  Achilles  leave  the  tents  and  ships 
To  raze  great-gated  Ilium,  and  stand 
Victorious  upon  the  red-wet  strand. 


63 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 

Rome 
I 

Almost  four  times  have  seven  ages  past 

Over  thy  head,  great  Rome  !  and  still  thy  heart 

Beats  strong,  and  in  thy  awful  mien  thou  art 

Thyself,  e'en  now,  though  shorn  of  all.     How  vast 

The  shadow  from  thy  form  majestic  cast 

Upon  the  vale  of  time  !     Thy  fatal  dart 

Long  kept  the  world  submissive  while  thy  part 

Of  rulership  was  finely  borne.     Thou  hast 

Still  on  thee  shadows  of  thy  purple  vest ; 

As  when  the  captive  nations  swelled  thy  train 

And  sadly  sang  to  thee  their  suppliant  strain, 

When  marvelled  at  thee  all  the  East  and  West. 

For  glory  thou  didst  fill  the  world  with  gloom, 

And  so  I  hail  thy  fall,  Imperial  Rome  ! 

II 

The  Pagan  world  knelt  at  thy  jewelled  feet, 
Whose  gods  within  thy  fanes  did  consecrate 
Her  tributary  gold :  whose  sons  did  wait 
Within  thy  palaces  and  oft  defeat 
Thy  potent  will,  and  seize  thy  throne  with  fleet 
And  iron  arm.     Thy  mighty  emperors 
Sprang  chiefly  from  the  barbarian  shores 


64 


ROME 


And  from  the  tent  strode  to  thy  lofty  seat 

Of  majesty  :  yet  thou  didst  Latinize 

Them  all,  them  and  the  world,  and  magnify 

Thyself  alone.     Thy  magic  wand  did  lie 

On  continent  and  sea,  and  solemnize 

With  name  of  Roman  tribes  without  a  name, 

And  in  remotest  regions  write  thy  fame. 


Ill 


It  is  a  pure  and  lovely  company 

Of  men  and  women,  for  the  most  part  slaves, 

Greek  in  their  language,  who  among  the  graves 

And  excavated  places  lift  on  high 

Their  patient  hearts,  while  raging  death  draws  nigh 

And  martyr-crowns.     The  holy  bishop  laves 

Unnoted  thousands  in  the  tide  that  saves 

Beyond  the  fiery  trial ;  tidings  fly 

In  secret  of  the  One  whose  sacrifice 

Sufficeth  for  the  world's  uncounted  sins, 

And  heaven  a  throng  of  holy  converts  wins  ; 

Who  in  their  dying  scatter  seeds  that  rise 

In  larger  harvests  still.     And  lo  !  great  Rome 

Of  Christ's  religion  is  the  cherished  home. 


65 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


IV 


Pride  of  the  saint,  and  light  of  many  lands 

Beyond  the  utmost  bounds  of  all  the  West ! 

For  ages  thou  didst  keep  the  truth  confest 

Of  Peter  and  of  Paul,  but  as  thy  hands 

Grew  strong  and  riches  flowed  to  thee  like  sands 

Upon  the  shore,  thou  couldst  no  longer  rest 

In  thy  simplicity,  but  with  unblest 

Desire  of  earthly  splendor  made  demands 

Upon  it  for  thy  rites,  and  made  the  faith 

Of  Christ  a  ceremony  burdensome, 

Which  like  a  veil  obscured  the  dome 

Of  spiritual  attainment ;  the  path 

To  heaven  was  something  to  be  sought 

With  sordid  gold,  not  with  Christ's  merit  bought. 


V 

Drunk  with  iniquity  and  blind  with  pride 

Of  place  and  power,  thou  wouldst  not  hear  the  cry 

Of  nations  for  true  Christian  liberty  : 

Thou  wouldst  not  see  the  deep  and  strenuous  tide 

Of  reformation  loosening  from  thy  side 

Thy  offspring  of  a  thousand  years  ;  thine  eye, 

All  bleared  with  sin,  saw  not  the  unity 


66 


ROME 


Of  ages  falling  :  Thou  wert  satisfied 

To  curse  thy  children  and  to  drink  thy  fill 

Of  heathen  sweets.     O  Papacy  !  the  foe 

Of  justice.     What  immitigable  woe 

Shall  yet  o'ertake  thee  in  the  calm  and  still 

Security  of  noon  !  What  thunder  blast 

Shall  shiver  thee  to  atoms  at  the  last  ! 


67 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Italy 

O  Italy  !  Fair  Italy  !  The  earth 

Is  full  of  echoes  from  thy  dreamy  past, 

And  everywhere  the  shadows  dimly  vast 

Fall  from  thy  form  :  thou  hadst  thy  wondrous  birth 

Like  Venus  from  some  rosy  spray.     Thy  hearth 

Resounds  with  song,  and  on  thy  walls  do  last 

The  mind's  heroic  images.    Thou  hast 

A  voice  in  which  a  thousand  strains  of  worth 

Blend  in  triumphant  harmony,  which  leads 

Us  captive  all,  while  countless  ghosts  sublime 

March  past  us  from  the  depths  of  ancient  time, 

And  memory  rings  with  clang  of  valiant  deeds. 

Mother  of  beauty  and  immortal  gifts  ! 

Would  thou  hadst  Truth  which  blesses  and  uplifts. 


68 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

The  Middle  Ages 
I 

The  scene  is  filled  with  hierarchs  and  kings, 
With  castles  and  cathedrals  dim  and  vast, 
And  all  the  knightly  tourneys  of  the  past, 
And  splendors  chivalrous  which  fancy  flings 
Bright  over  all.     Who  would  not  covet  wings 
With  which  to  track  his  way  through  ages  gone  ? 
So  he  might  join  some  bright  procession 
Of  pilgrims  to  the  holy  wells  and  springs, 
Where  haloed  saints  in  mossy  hermitage 
Fasted  the  lingering  years  ;  or  to  the  hills 
Of  Palestine,  where  Salem's  vision  fills 
The  heart  with  dreadful  awe.     Mysterious  age  ! 
Thee  I  would  visit  though  I  would  not  stay, 
And  with  thy  shadowy  dreams  beguile  a  day. 

II 

Great  age!  though  filled  with  many  childish  things 

Which  we  have  put  away.    Thy  rightful  place 

In  history  is  felt  by  those  who  trace 

In  sequence  just  the  world's  great  course,  which  brings 

Its  life  through  thee.     Thy  deathless  shadow  clings 

To  all  our  institutes  :  in  law  thy  face 

Is  seen,  and  in  the  blood  of  all  our  race 


69 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Thy  spirit  lives.     To  us  thy  Dante  sings. 
Thy  gentle  monks  lived  not  for  self  alone, 
But  left  their  hearts  for  us  in  carved  stone, 
And  scrolls  illuminate  with  lines  untold 
And  learned  dialectic.     Thy  strong  towers 
Speak  to  our  noblest  tastes,  and  from  the  cold 
Bleak  past  thou  orTerest  us  some  fragrant  flowers. 


Ill 


I  count  him  blind,  or  one  who  reads  in  vain 

The  world's  immortal  history,  whose  soul 

Exults  not  when  he  hears  called  out  the  roll 

Of  mediaeval  names,  and  cannot  gain 

New  inspiration  for  his  will  and  brain 

When  well  he  studies  the  illumined  scroll 

Of  all  their  matchless  deeds.     Art  had  its  school 

With  grave  philosophy,  and  without  pain 

Wrought  nothing  great  in  song  and  sacred  shrine 

It  told  us  how  religion  should  indwell 

All  life  and  thought,  and,  with  its  potent  spell, 

Involve  the  nations  in  a  light  divine. 

The  page  of  beauty  by  great  poets  penned 

To  latest  ages  then  high  fame  shall  send. 


70 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 


IV 


They  had  their  superstitions  and  their  crimes, 
Their  feudal  bondages  and  rash  crusades, 
Their  petty  tyrants  and  their  ruthless  raids  ; 
They  had,  but  so  they  had  their  silver  chimes, 
Their  gentle  homes  of  prayer  and  holy  times 
Of  festival  and  song.     In  hills  and  glades, 
By  winding  rivers  and  'neath  forest  shades, 
In  realms  remote  and  in  Cisalpine  climes 
Was  heard  the  sound  of  never-ceasing  chant, 
And  praise  perpetual.     They  have  their  part 
In  Time's  great  chronicle,  and  on  the  chart 
Of  human  progress  left  no  mean  and  scant 
Inditing.     Like  stained  windows  they  convey 
To  us  the  light  that  fell  upon  their  day. 


In  your  wide  furrows  were  the  fruitful  seeds 
Of  whole  milleniums  of  thought  and  work, 
And  in  your  famous  monuments  there  lurk 
True  lessons  for  our  own  deep  future  needs. 
The  world  before  you  throbbing  with  its  deeds 
Of  wondrous  glory  did  not  die  unheired, 
And  our  great  modern  centuries  are  reared 


7i 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Upon  your  own  stability.     Your  weeds 
We  dry  and  label  and  keep  safe  :  your  flowers 
We  plant  anew  and  with  them  decorate 
Our  page  ;  and  standing  at  the  open  gate 
Of  coming  times  we  see  your  minster  towers 
Still  casting  peaceful  shadows  on  the  earth, 
And  bearing  witness  to  your  faith  and  worth. 


72 


CATHEDRALS 


Cathedrals 

Dear  images  of  faith  profound :  Sweet  songs 

In  stone  ;  pictures  of  grace  victorious 

Over  man's  shapeless  aims  !  could  he  rear  thus 

His  ladders  into  heaven,  while  feudal  wrongs 

Attended  superstitious  fears,  and  prongs 

Oppressive  goaded  human  life  ?  when  light 

Of  earthly  hope   grows   dim  then   shines  heaven's 

bright 
And  beauteous  flame ;  the  soul  repines  and  longs 
For  unseen  succors,  upward  sends  its  prayer 
And  lives  for  God.     Then,  all  attired  in  grace 
And  holiness  and  trust,  it  fills  the  air 
With  sacred  hymns,  anoints  its  glowing  face, 
And  consecrates  to  Christ  its  gifts  so  fair, 
And  makes  its  home  within  the  holy  place. 


73 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The  Jordan 

O  sad  soft  river  rushing  like  a  tide 
Of  leaping  glories  to  no  living  sea  ! 
With  awe  I  ponder  thy  long  history. 
Forever  with  thy  name  there  must  abide 
A  holy  spell.     Thy  yellow  waves  that  wide 
Asunder  rolled  that  Israel  might  pass 
To  conquest  and  a  home,  seem  like  a  glass 
Of  that  last  boundary  o'er  which  we  glide 
To  our  immortal  joy  :  and  since  that  Christ 
Within  thy  blissful  waters  set  His  feet 
Thou  art  to  us  all  consecrate  and  sweet, 
And  murmurest  ever  of  the  meek  Baptist. 
Roll  on,  roll  on,  O  waves,  beneath  the  sun, 
And  brighten  ever  as  you  glance  and  run  ! 


74 


ELIJAH 


Elijah 

Tremendous  day  in  Israel's  history 
When  with  Elijah  heathen  prophets  stood 
On  Carmel's  slope,  and  on  the  piled  wood 
Laid  sacrificial  beasts,  perchance  to  see 
If  Baal  were  divine,  or  at  his  plea 
The  God  of  Israel's  prophet  might  send  flood 
Of  fire  to  burn  the  calves,  and  show  who  should 
Be  worshipped  in  the  land !  All  day  they  dree 
The  tedious  hours  :  with  knives  the  heathens  gash 
Themselves  :  Elijah  mocks  their  god  ;  when,  lo  ! 
From  heaven  falls  vengeful  fire,  and  pagans  rash 
Are  overwhelmed  with  wrath  and  deathly  woe. 
Our  sacrifice  we  lay  with  this  desire, 
Let  Him  be  God  that  answereth  bv  fire. 


75 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


David 

Arise,  anoint  him,  this  is  he  !     Lo  !  here 

The  monarch  comes,  all  crowned  with  health  alone, 

That  had  some  shaded  hillock  for  a  throne 

Beneath  a  canopy  of  palms.    What  cheer 

Lights  up  his  ruddy  looks  !     How  bright  and  clear 

Those  eyes  that  watched  the  stars  when  day  was  done 

Mid  silent  hills  !     What  soft  yet  manful  tone 

Is  in  that  voice  that  sang  of  Israel's  fear, 

Who  led  him  out  of  Egypt  when  a  child ! 

Son  of  the  people  is  he,  young  and  strong, 

Whose  foes  he  shall  subdue  though  thousands  filed 

Up  Jordan's  vales.    Valiant  shall  be  his  song 

Upon  the  harp,  yet  oft  so  sweet  and  mild 

That  men  shall  for  the  heavenly  kingdom  long  ! 


76 


EZEK1EL 


Ezekiel 

The  captives  by  the  river  sat  all  sad 
And  downcast,  hanging  up  the  tuneless  harp 
As  through  their  spirits  went  the  sudden,  sharp 
Remembrance  of  fair  Sion's  songs,  when  glad 
Resounding  trumpets  filled  the  fane.     Then  had 
Ezekiel,  priest  and  seer,  seen  heaven  ope 
Her  azure  gates,  and  show  the  realms  of  hope, 
And  visions  of  God's  beauty,  which  should  add 
New  sweetness  to  His  word.     A  river  clear 
Runs  through  our  earthly  soil,  in  which  we  trace 
The  regal  glory  for  our  light  and  cheer : 
We  see  in  symbol  through  the  stainless  space 
And  heaven's  unutterable  depths  :  So  near 
The  banished  gazer  shines  the  Father's  face. 


77 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Saint  Paul 

O  great  Apostle  !  The  Ambassador 

Of  heaven  and  Minister  of  Jesus  Christ 

To  countless  souls  !   Doth  not  in  this  consist 

Thy  glory  eminent,  that  thou  the  door 

Of  Faith  didst  ope  to  Gentiles,  such  as  wore 

No  shadow  of  the  ancient  truth,  but  dwelt 

Outside  in  deepest  gloom,  and  ne'er  had  felt 

The  fascination  of  the  Hebrew  lore  ? 

What  great  humility  was  thine  to  serve 

The  meanest  of  mankind,  and  put  away 

Thy  patriot  pride,  thy  past  forget,  nor  swerve 

From  boundless  labors  when  thy  Strength  and  Stay 

Invisible  remained  !  I  pray  for  nerve 

Like  thine  to  stand  out  in  the  evil  day. 


78 


SAINT  COLUMBA 


Saint  Columba 

The  halo  round  thy  head  is  formed  of  mist 

Out  of  the  ancient  sea,  thou  glorious  saint 

Of  weird  Iona  !  on  it  is  no  taint 

Of  city-glare,  but  it  is  brightly  kist 

Of  purest  sunbeams.     Great  Evangelist 

Of  Celtic  lands  !  well  do  I  hear  the  plaint 

Of  ocean  with  thy  holy  chant  keep  faint 

Harmonious  antiphon.     Did  ye  not  wist, 

O  waves,  what  duteous  voice  gave  utterance 

To  psalms  and  hymns  and  spiritual  songs 

Amid  your  solitary  bounds  ?     It  haunts 

You  yet,  and  on  your  onward  path  prolongs 

Its  deep  reverberations,  like  the  chants 

With  which  the  angels  soothe  our  human  wrongs. 


79 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Baptism  of  Ethelbert  of  Kent 

Thou  happy  monarch  !  snatched  from  pagan  gods 

And  with  pure  waters  cleansed  from  every  sin ; 

What  unknown  sun  has  dawned  and  smiled  within 

All  Saxon-land!  What  joy  in  the  abodes 

Of  blessed  heaven  as  Austin  shods 

The  King  for  Christ's  bright  path,  this  glorious  day  ! 

The  King  is  Christ's,  and  all  that  own  his  sway 

Shall  hear  and  turn,  and  all  the  merry  roads 

Be  bright  with  pilgrims  to  this  fountain  sweet, 

Upsprung  in  Kentish  soil.     God's  kingdom  here 

Comes  down,  and  angels  walk  with  unseen  feet 

Ways  haunted  once  by  horrid  sprites  of  fear 

And  loathly  ill ;  and  in  the  pearly  street 

The  Kingf  and  thousands  walk  with  vision  clear. 


VENERABLE  BEDE 


Venerable  Bede 

Long  centuries  have  held  in  their  embrace, 

O  venerable  Bede  !  thy  gentle  soul : 

But  never  have  they  blotted  out  the  scroll 

Of  thy  achievements.     Of  our  Saxon  race 

Thou  wert  the  best,  and  sittest  in  the  place 

Of  highest  honor  midst  its  dead.     How  fair 

Thy  life,  which  was  a  golden  psalm,  a  prayer, 

Immortal  melody  of  love  !     We  trace 

Thy  holy  years  from  childhood  up,  that  trod 

At  seven  the  sacred  cloister,  and  grew  on 

To  priesthood  and  to  wisdom,  with  thy  God 

Conversing  ever  like  the  holy  John, 

Whose  gospel  thou  translatedst ;  then  with  rod 

Of  God  in  hand  went  forth,  thy  labor  done. 


Si 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Thomas  Cranmer 

In  learning  great,  greater  in  gentleness, 
Dear  Master  of  our  tongue's  rich  subtleties ! 
Thy  lot  was  cast  in  troublous  times,  when  wise 
It  was  to  hide  away  from  fame,  confess 
No  purpose,  and  awake  no  fears.     I  bless 
Thy  memory,  meek  saint !  whoever  plies 
Against  it  bitter  words.     Who  willing  dies 
For  truth  a  martyr  is.     In  storm  and  stress 
I  know  thy  weakness,  but  I  know  thy  might. 
What  endless  praise  shall  cleave  to  thy  last  hour, 
When  with  thine  erring  hand  that  seemed  to  blight 
Thy  past  thou  didst  embrace  the  fiery  shower ! 
Mercy  for  all  was  thy  grand  litany  ; 
And  mercy  all  might  nobly  show  to  thee. 


82 


RICHARD  HOOKER 


Richard  Hooker 

Wisest  among  the  sages  !  Of  the  saints 
Tenderest  and  fairest !  Like  some  great  star 
That  hides  its  brightest  beams  in  heaven  afar, 
And  unawares  our  darkness  sweetly  paints 
With  tranquil  light,  he  kindly  shines,  nor  faints 
Ever  on  earth.     Dear,  simple,  holy  one  ! 
England  were  great  if  thou  wert  all  alone 
Her  theologian.     Thy  deep  complaints 
God  only  heard.     In  utter  lowliness 
Among  the  lowly  thou  didst  hide  away, 
To  write  for  future  ages,  and  to  bless 
Vast  multitudes  that  own  and  love  thy  sway  ; 
Spirits  that  never  saw  thy  modest  face 
Shall  hail  and  kiss  thee  in  eternal  day ! 


83 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Launcelot  Andrewes 

Saintly  among  the  saints,  how  fair  thy  fame 
Among  the  brethren  of  the  way  of  life  ! 
Serene  amidst  the  noisy  paths  of  strife 
Thou  walkedst  freely  without  breath  of  blame. 
With  brow  anointed  by  celestial  flame, 
Thou  failedst  not  to  shine  when  sin  was  rife 
On  every  hand  :  like  a  glittering  knife 
Thy  learning  smote  that  ancient  Papal  shame 
That  still  lives  on.     But  thou  didst  not  ascend 
Alas  !  the  primate-throne,  a  higher  thine 
In  brighter  worlds,  where  never  any  friend 
Can  pass  away,  nor  foe  invade,  where  shine 
Saints  like  thyself,  who  on  their  God  attend 
Unrestingly,  and  near  Him,  wax  divine. 


84 


JOSEPH  BUTLER 


Joseph  Butler 

Great  Master  !  Spirit  calm  and  clear  !  To  thee 

We  owe  an  everlasting  recompense, 

Who  into  our  stern  darkness,  drear  and  dense, 

Brought  from  the  awful  depth,  eternity, 

A  little  shaft  of  light,  and  mad'st  us  see 

Our  limits  and  our  human  impotence. 

Beyond  the  veil  thou  hast  departed  hence, 

Where  'neath  the  shade  of  immortality 

Thou  walkest  with  some  friend,  and  in  the  light 

Canst  spell  the  mysteries  of  Paradise. 

How  dost  thou  feel  the  vision  infinite 

Thrill  all  thy  soul !     How  pure  within  thine  eyes 

Must  glow  prophetic  thought  when  in  the  height 

Thou  see'st  the  workings  of  the  Only  Wise  ! 


85 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Jonathan  Edwards 

Through  farthest  regions  of  the  light  he  passed 

E'en  while  he  toiled  among  New  England  hills. 

A  spirit  open  to  the  sun,  which  fills 

With  radiant  prophecy,  in  which  is  glassed 

Heaven's  holiest  images,  was  his.     So  fast 

Upon  the  rock  his  feet  were  set  that  storms 

Of  earth  he  felt  not :  men  he  counted  worms 

Amidst  the  mire,  and  looked  for  feet  that  haste 

On  awful  judgment  hitherbound.     To  him 

Sin  and  its  doom  alike  were  terrible 

And  hell  more  vast  than  heaven,  but  what  a  hymn 

Of  beauty  was  his  life  !     The  heart  will  dwell 

Delighted  on  his  faith  and  zeal  sublime 

Which  on  the  forests  laid  their  gentle  spell. 


86 


THE   CHURCH  OF  ENGLAND 


The  Church  of  England 

What  dignity  and  what  simplicity 

Are  thine,  dear  mother  Church  !  Thy  sons  of  old 

Lived  in  an  atmosphere  above  earth's  cold 

And  misty  levels,  and  thy  liturgy, 

So  strong  and  pure  and  of  unwisdom  free, 

Adorns  thee  like  a  crown  of  finest  gold. 

Thy  voice  is  rich  and  deep,  not  harsh  nor  bold, 

But  clear,  like  reverend  bells  across  the  lea, 

Toned  to  the  note  of  benediction 

And  love  divine.     Thy  heart  within  is  sound, 

Thy  white-robed  squadrons  are  fast  hast'ning  on 

To  bear  good  tidings  to  earth's  utmost  bound, 

Already  thou  dost  dwell  in  every  zone ; 

England  through  thee  is  consecrated  ground. 


8/ 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Homer 

Hero  ample-browed,  sublime  Enchanter 

Of  the  early  world  !     O  Thou  good  and  wise  ! 

Thy  signature  of  greatness  broadly  lies 

On  all  thy  works.     For  Troy  I  would  not  err 

With  those  who  make  thee  but  a  ghost,  a  mere 

Dim  mist  of  Phantasy.     I  see  thee  rise 

Like  morning  when  around  him  all  the  skies 

Put  on  his  livery,  for  bards  most  dear 

In  every  clime  take  on  thy  light,  and  bask 

Each  in  his  little  glade  lit  up  by  thee. 

Pellucid  fountain  !  one  could  never  ask 

An  art  more  glorious  than  this — so  free 

To  fall  in  showers  refreshing,  as  if  task 

'Twere  not  to  echo  far  the  sounding  sea. 


88 


DANTE 


Dante 

Of  all  that  walked  in  hell  thou,  thou  alone 
Didst  cast  a  shadow  on  the  lurid  cloud, 
Immortal  Bard  !     Alone  among  the  crowd 
That  daily  vexed  thee  here  thou  seem'st  to  own 
Unfading  influence.     That  heart  is  stone 
That  melts  not  when  thy  voice  all  clear  and  loud 
Amidst  th'  abyss  of  flame  is  smit  with  proud 
Emotion  masterful,  or  tender  tone 
Takes  on  among  the  ardent  happy  throng 
That  rests  within  the  golden  gleaming  mist, 
And  lifts  aloft  its  pure,  ecstatic  song. 
Thine  exile  ended,  thou  art  keeping  tryst 
With  radiant  guide,  and  ancient  poet  strong, 
And  dwelling  in  whatever  light  they  list. 


89 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Geoffrey  Chaucer 

Apollo-like,  and  young,  thou  art  a  Greek 

Almost,  yet  Saxon  in  thy  love  of  tint, 

And  Norman  in  thy  tastes.     Life  without  stint 

Is  in  the  scenes  set  forth  by  thee  :  no  weak 

Nor  wooden  pilgrims  pass  us  by  to  seek 

For  sin's  indulgence  in  great  Canterbure. 

Nature  o'ercomes  thy  art,  which  cannot  cure 

Nor  change  the  homely  herd.     We  hear  them  speak 

To  us  through  all  the  Mediaeval  years 

And  centuries  since,  and  'tis  no  solemn  tongue, 

Such  as  was  spoken  by  the  Hebrew  seers, 

But  light  and  joyous,  springlike,  as  a  song 

Of  birds  among  the  blossoms :  with  pure  tears 

It  does  not  tremble,  nor  with  dread  of  wrong. 


90 


JOHN  MILTON 


John  Milton 

Ah  !  human  angel !  wanderer  through  realms 
Which  only  winged  feet  will  dare  to  tread, 
Whose  spirit  with  the  gracious  dawn  is  wed, 
The  torrent  of  thy  song  quite  overwhelms 
Earth-hindered  man.     Thou  saw'st  the  plumed  helms 
Of  God's  immortal  sons,  when  onward  led 
Against  His  foes,  and  gazed,  while  chaos  fled  : 
So  clear  had  been  thine  eye  as  human  films 
Had  by  the  great  Archangel  been  removed. 
With  love  thou  buildedst  in  the  lofty  rhyme, 
And  all  the  treasures  of  our  language  proved  ; 
Brought  shadows  of  eternity  o'er  time, 
And  made  thy  solemn  measures  to  be  loved 
By  all  whose  steadfast  spirit  is  sublime  ! 


9i 


DECEMBER    MUSINGS 


George  Herbert 

Dear  soul,  that  early  trod  the  unseen  way, 

Yet  gave  us  songs  and  precepts  for  our  age  ! 

Blest  is  our  lot  and  great  our  heritage, 

Who  know  and  love  thy  voice  !     Thy  Sunday  lay 

Comes  home  to  weary  hearts  that  every  day 

With  sin  and  want  unfailing  warfare  wage ; 

Our  gloom  is  broken  by  thy  shining  page, 

Where  precious  thoughts,  like  gems,  with  sunbeams 

play. 
The  temple  by  thy  gifts  is  glorified, 
The  priest  is  brighter  since  thou  wert  so  bright ; 
Religion  points  to  thee  with  joy  and  pride, 
As  one  shot  through  and  through  with  heavenly  light, 
Who  all  her  purest  teachings  justified, 
And  made  her  sweet  and  precious  in  men's  sight. 


92 


THOMAS  KEN 


Thomas  Ken 

0  heart  of  strength  and  wondrous  tenderness, 
Jewelled  and  dazzling  with  all  gifts  of  light, 
Pure  as  the  dawn  upon  an  Alpine  height, 
Receive  the  homage  of  the  sons  of  grace  ! 
What  mystic  love  upon  thy  brow  may  trace 
Of  bliss  and  sweetness,  in  the  regions  bright 
Where  of  the  throne  itself  thou  catchest  sight, 

1  cannot  tell ;  but  blessed  is  the  place 

Where  thou  dost  walk  !     There  angels  congregate 
To  sing  with  thee  dear  hymns  to  God  on  high : 
There  seraphs  clothed  with  ardent  flame  still  wait 
Upon  thy  gracious  soul,  and  turn  love's  sigh 
To  golden  mist,  that  may  adorn  the  gate 
When  morn  and  eve  the  great  King  passes  by. 


93 


DECEMBER   MUSINGS 


Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge 

What  singer  of  them  all,  great  melodist ! 

Had  sweetness  quite  like  thine  !     Deep  interfused 

With  all  thy  thought,  as  if  thou  oft  hadst  mused 

In  Paradise,  or  dwelt  in  dreamy  mist 

Of  mountains  twilight-purpled,  or  hadst  kissed 

The  tears  from  Spenser's  face,  is  wondrous  balm 

Which  overflows  thy  thought,  and  through  the  calm 

Rich  texture  of  thy  cadence  lives.     Like  list 

Of  hero-names  in  Homer  or  the  names 

Of  lands  and  cities  in  my  Milton  flow 

Thy  numbers  marvelous.     Among  the  fames 

Most  glorious  is  thine.     While  tempests  blow 

Upon  the  sea,  and  roar  the  rhythmic  flames, 

And  rivers  run  to  song,  that  fame  shall  glow. 


94 


WILLIAM   WORDSWORTH 


William   Wordsworth 

Let  me  invoke  thy  presence,  Heart  of  gold  ! 

For  sure  thou  ling'rest  where  the  hills  stretch  blue 

And  far.     Sure  in  these  waters  must  the  true 

Reflection  of  thy  face  be  seen  :  these  old 

And  solemn  forests  must  thy  spirit  hold, 

At  least  when  rare  deep  sunset  brings  the  dew, 

And  to  its  fading  all  the  stars  ensue  ! 

What  mystic  glory  did  thy  birth  enfold  ! 

What  genius  led  thee  out  each  morning  fair 

To  turn  the  waters  into  thoughts,  and  touch 

The  rocks  with  spiritual  grace,  and  care 

For  truth  that  sings  within  the  cowslip  !     Much 

We  owe  to  thee,  for  thou  hast  everywhere 

Seen  visions  of  calm  joy,  and  given  us  such. 


95 


DECEMBER   MUSINGS 


Alfred  Tennyson 


And  is  it  true  that  radiant  richness  dwells 

In  Saxon  speech,  and  perfect  thoughts  can  match 

With  perfect  forms  ?  What  gleamings  didst  thou  catch 

From  passing  unseen  wings,  whose  great  verse  tells 

Of  beauty  paramount,  and  gently  swells 

With  pulses  of  the  heart  ?     O  !  thou  didst  watch 

Where  others  only  passed,  and  didst  unlatch 

The  unaccustomed  doors,  and  of  deep  wells 

In  woods  untrodden  took'st  thy  fill.     Awake 

Thou  wert  to  inner  charms  of  song,  and  felt 

A  motion  from  the  world's  deep  soul,  that  brake 

O'er  thee  in  thrills  mysterious.     Hearts  melt 

With  thine  ;  and  at  thy  sculptured  fountain  slake 

Their  thirst,  whose  longings  thou  hast  known  and  spelt. 


96 


JOHN  KEBLE 


John  Keble 

Beauteous  spirit !  Sweet  and  primitive, 
Bard  of  the  soul !  That  walked  in  Godly  fear 
Through  all  the  cycle  of  the  Christian  year, 
And  taught  us  how  the  child  of  light  should  live 
Among  these  earthly  shadows  fugitive  : 
Well  didst  Thou  interweave  the  Autumn  sere 
With  childhood's  innocence  and  hearty  cheer. 
Thou  gavest  all  thy  gentle  heart  could  give 
To  gentle  hearts.     Thou  didst  with  grace  unfold 
In  flowers  and  sunbeams  and  in  hills  and  vales 
Pictures  of  heavenly  beauty.     Lights  untold 
Lie  open  in  thy  gracious  hymn  when  pales 
Our  daily  sun,  and  in  the  realms  of  gold 
Such  words  shall  breath  when  earthly  being  fails. 


97 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Arthur  Cleveland  Coxe 

Father  in  God !  most  reverend  and  bright ! 
True  Singer  in  this  vineyard  of  the  West ! 
That  shed  a  tender  gleam  upon  the  breast 
Of  earth,  and  bathed  the  village  spire  in  light 
Of  filial  love ;  that  walked  so  long  in  white 
Among  us  here  ;  now  on  the  sunlit  crest 
Of  some  high  hill  thou  sittest  with  the  blest, 
And  singest  lyric  notes  with  all  thy  might 
Which  echo  to  the  throne.     We  cannot  weep 
For  thee,  for  thou  hast  gained  thy  deep  repose, 
And  near  the  altar-shade  wilt  vigil  keep 
With  them  that  like  thee  wait  till  Sion's  woes 
Are  past,  and  all  the  saints  that  fell  on  sleep 
Awake,  and  sing,  and  blossom  as  the  rose. 


98 


A  MANY  PINNACLED 


A  Many  Pinnacled 

A  many  pinnacled  upon  the  fame 

Of  ancestry  hold  fairly  well  their  place  ; 

But  oh  !  how  many  without  wit  or  grace 

Shame  both  the  past  and  present !     They  who  came 

To  these  our  Western  shores,  men  v/ithout  blame, 

Men  unimpeached  and  unimpeachable, 

With  iron  wills  and  with  no  souls  to  sell 

For  earthly  price,  should  have  for  sons  the  same 

Great-moulded  sort  of  men  as  they  themselves. 

Americans  !     Fear  the  degenerate  days 

When  to  be  Pagan  is  to  win  all  praise 

From  multitudes  that  put  away  on  shelves 

Their  bibles,  and  on  Sundays  shun  the  church, 

And  leave  our  pure  Religion  in  the  lurch. 


99 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


God's  Tabernacle 

0  Lord  my  God  !  this  earth  Thy  palace  is : 

In  gladness  and  in  love  Thou  didst  create 

Its  lofty  frame  and  clothe  it  with  so  great 

And  various  beauty.     In  the  abyss 

Of  light,  amidst  innumerous  worlds  this 

One  receives  Thy  special  care.     Thou  dost  wait 

That  Thou  may'st  gracious  be  to  man  whose  state 

So  wretched  is  through  sin  ;  yea  !  from  Thy  bliss 

Descendest  here,  and  dwellest  with  Thine  own, 

And  diest  for  them,  suffering  all  pain. 

O  may  Thy  mercies  not  be  all  in  vain ! 

May  millions  penitent  before  Thy  throne 

Pour  out  their  hearts !  and  do  Thou  walk  with  us, 

And  truth  unfold  in  visions  glorious. 


CHRIST  IN   US 


Christ  in  Us 

Christ  in  us  the  hope  of  glory  is,  so 
I  believe,  and  seek  for  Him  within  me. 
He  that  came  to  earth  doth  come  to  free 
Each  soul  that  will  receive  Him  from  the  slow, 
Sad  death  of  sin.     Tis  He  who  changes  woe 
And  weakness  into  joy  and  strength,  and  wakes 
Us  from  our  sloth  to  hear  the  song  that  makes 
The  heavens  rejoice,  proclaiming  love.   The  glow 
Of  trusting  faith  in  God  is  interfused 
With  all  my  thoughts  ;  submission  is  the  crown 
He  wreathes  my  brow  withal,  on  which  flows  down 
The  fragrant  oil  of  kingly  might.     Accused 
Of  evil  I  can  claim  His  pardoning  grace ; 
Dejected,  I  can  look  to  His  bright  face. 


IOI 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Is  There  no  Costly  Ointment? 

Is  there  no  costly  ointment  I  can  find 
To  shed  upon  my  dear  Redeemer's  feet 
While  here  He  sits  so  gentle  and  so  sweet, 
And  folds  us  in  His  smile  and  eyes  most  kind  ? 
What  can  He  care  for  gold  or  gems  consigned 
With  state  upon  His  altar,  when  men  fleet 
So  swiftly  from  it  to  the  joys  unmeet 
Of  witless  luxury  ?    What  swelling  wind 
Of  melody  can  reach  His  heart,  what  hymn, 
In  which  the  joy  and  wondrous  mystery 
Of  human  love  for  God  breathes  not  its  sigh 
Brought  from  a  spirit  welling  to  the  brim  ? 
O  Jesus  !  let  me  love  Thee  with  my  soul, 
Then  shall  I  find  some  offering  to  unroll. 


1 02 


WHAT  MYRIAD  RWERS 


What   Myriad  Rivers 

What  myriad  rivers,  thou  insatiate  sea, 

Dost  thou  imbibe  through  ages  dim  and  hoar  ! 

Whose  silvery  music  mingles  evermore 

With  thy  all-conquering  song.     Eternally 

They  softly  gleam  and  glide  and  run  to  thee, 

Yet  never  do  they  fail.     Like  wise  men's  lore 

They  thrive  by  giving,  and  so  freely  pour 

Their  generous  waves  through  many  a  grassy  lea, 

And  bank  elm-shadowed  into  thy  vast  breast ; 

And  ne'er  abate  their  melody  by  night 

Or  day,  nor  sparkle  with  a  shade  less  bright, 

But  in  their  flowing  deem  that  they  are  blest. 

My  child,  this  needful  lesson  duly  learn — 

They  keep  their  life  who  serve  another's  turn. 


103 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Ember  Day 

All  day  I  labor  in  His  vineyard  here, 

And  often  pray  and  think  about  what  next 
Should  be  performed  of  duty,  or  what  text 
Of  Holy  Writ  will  best  unfold  some  clear 
And  edifying  thought  for  those  whom  fear 
Doth  hinder,  or  who  often  are  perplext 
With  doubt  and  conflict.   And,  oh !    Thou  that 
deck'st 
These  hills  with  ripening  fruits,  I  often  hear 

The  voice  which  said  :  "  The  laborers  are  few." 
And  then  I  hear  the  perilous  sounds  without 
Of  them  that  for  Thy  vine's  destruction  shout ; 
And  feel  how  weak  I  am  to  face  this  crew. 
Do  Thou,  to  make  me  zealous  in  the  strife, 
Mix  heavenly  spices  with  the  wine  of  life. 


104 


BY  ALL    WATERS  SOW 


How  Blest  Are   They    that 
By  all  Waters  Sow 

How  blest  are  they  that  by  all  waters  sow 

Immortal  seed !  Ours  is  a  task  sublime, 

Who  lead  men  up  beyond  the  vale  of  time 

To  where  the  mountains  of  attainment  glow 

With  spiritual  lustre.     Here  below 

We  pass  for  spies,  who  have  been  through  that  clime 

And  learned  a  little  of  its  saintly  rhyme 

To   charm  men's  hearts,  and  from  a  fragment 

show 
How  wonderful  our  Father's  country  is. 
Inopportune  is  never  any  hour 
Wherein  to  gladden  with  His  promises 
Sin-wearied  souls,  and  show  the  gracious  power 
Of  their  most  dear  Redeemer.     O  what  bliss 
When  opens  in  them  Faith's  unfading  flower  ! 


[o< 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The  Gifts  of  God 

God's  gifts  are  perfect,  in  their  motive  pure, 

Pure  as  the  sunbeams  in  the  heart  of  flowers, 

And  constant  in  their  flow  as  are  the  hours 

That  still  glide  on.     Like  Him  they  shall  endure, 

And  all  our  sorrows  and  our  trials  cure, 

Increasing  in  their  value  till  the  towers 

Of  venture  highest,  holiest,  are  ours 

Far  in  the  land  of  light.     Us  they  allure 

Into  the  wilderness  to  walk  with  God : 

And  on  through  strife  and  labor  to  the  stream 

That  borders  on  the  gardens  where  the  road 

Leads  to  the  golden  city.     Ye  misdeem 

That  falter  on  beneath  your  heavy  load. 

And  will  not  slake  your  darkness  with  His  beam. 


1 06 


THE  ALCHEMIST 


The  Alchemist 

A  strange  pathetic  picture  like  a  dream 

Of  dissapointed  hope  that  hopes  again, 

Lives  in  the  ages  past  all  clear  and  plain, 

The  Alchemist  into  the  fiery  stream 

That  carries  off  his  wealth  throws  all  the  cream 

Of  brain  and  energy,  looking  in  his  pain 

For  gold  from  metals  base  :  sometimes  in  vain 

Imagining  he  sees  the  precious  gleam. 

Yet  is  the  picture  not  all  sad :  he  finds 

Not  what  he.  seeks,  but  by  an  accident 

Nature  gives  up  some  secret,  as  from  blent 

Rich  fluids  issue  wonderful  unwinds. 

In  life's  ambitions  fail  we  often  may, 

But,  God  be  praised !  good  do  we  by  the  way. 


107 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


O    Let    This    Be    My   Portion    with    the 
Blest ! 

O  let  this  be  my  portion  with  the  blest, 
To  see  Him  risen  up  to  shut  the  door, 
To  hear  him  gently  say,  for  evermore  ; 

To  look,  to  love,  to  lean  upon  His  breast, 

To  hear  the  pulses  of  His  soul  confest 

While  slowly  He  unfolds  the  precious  store, 
Which  all  the  years  for  me  he  gladly  bore, 

Of  love  unspeakable  ;  to  look  and  rest, 

And  feel  His  tears  in  silence  once  again 

Shed  over  me  as  whilom  from  His  cross, 

When  love  and  pity  mingled  with  His  pain, 

He  counted  earth  and  heaven  and  all  but  loss 
That  me,  even  me,  He  might  forever  gain 

To  be  through  Him  made  clean  from  earthly  dross  ! 


ioS 


OUR  FEET  SHALL  STAND  WITHIN  THY  GATES 


Our  Feet  Shall  Stand  within  Thy  Gates 

Our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy  gates,  O  dear 
Jerusalem  !     Here  do  we  travel  on 
Hardly  bestead  till  days  long  hours  be  gone, 
And  wonder  when  we  shall  behold  with  clear 
Untroubled  eyes  Thy  lofty  towers,  and  near 
Thee  draw  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy 
Upon  our  heads.     What  hopes  do  we  employ 
Our  moments  with,  when  worn  with  toil  or  fear, 
We  seek  some  shelter  in  the  wilderness, 
WThere  we  may  sit,  and  weave  upon  the  air 
Some  picture  out  of  sunshine,  sweet  and  fair, 
And  call  it  by  Thy  name ;  and  often  bless 
Thy  open  gates  and  glories  faintly  seen — 
Unshadowed  deeps  of  gold  and  purple  sheen  ! 


109 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The   Psalms 

A  palace  rises  in  its  calm  repose 
Before  me  in  the  wilderness,  as  fair 
As  morning  when  upon  the  tender  air 
She  rears  her  dome  in  color  like  a  rose. 
Within  a  calm  melodious  music  flows, 
In  which  impleached  are  gleams  of  gold,  and  rare 
Pale  lights  of  silvery  hue.     'Tis  like  a  prayer 
Of  saint  that  was  a  sinner,  in  which  glows 
The  vivid  shaft  of  light  mid  subtle  glooms. 
The  windows  brighten  with  each  radiant  morn, 
And  with  the  evening  pale  to  softest  blooms 
Of  ruddy  glory,  printing  on  forlorn 
Repentant  souls  sweet  images  of  dooms 
Prepared  for  victors  in  the  world  new-born. 


no 


TE  DEUM  LAUDAMUS 


Te  Deum  Laudamus 

Exalted  strain  !     The  Church's  jubile  hymn 

And  creed  and  supplication  all  in  one, 

Touched  with  a  penitential  tone  since  won 

One  rest  is  not :  a  window  in  our  dim 

And  narrow  life,  where  heavenly  light  doth  limn 

A  mystic  vision  in  the  hues  of  earth. 

We  more  and  more  discern  its  priceless  worth, 

And  fill  the  cup  of  music  to  the  brim 

To  give  it  overflow.     The  melody 

Of  voices  from  the  saintly  past  I  hear, 

Like  murmurs  of  the  shining  summer  sea, 

Bringing  the  Church's  solemn  memories  near, 

As  if  from  islands  in  eternity — 

Voices  of  victory,  awful  and  dear. 


in 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The   Collects 

Adown  the  long  nave  of  the  Christian  year 

Those  saintly  windows  oft  by  hands  unknown 

Wrought  for  us,  in  the  ages  past,  alone 

Surpass  all  mortal  worth.     How  justly  dear 

The  meaning  in  their  limned  forms  which  wear 

The  light  of  heavenly  truth  !  Christ  on  His  throne 

And  on  His  cross,  in  Salem  with  His  own, 

In  lilied  fields  and  on  the  crystal  mere 

Is  their  great  theme,  while  a  vast  multitude 

In  sanctity  pre-eminent,  and  crowned 

With  grace  are  there,  and  all  the  blissful  brood 

Of  angels  bright.     There  Charities  are  found 

In  white  arrayed  or  golden  robed,  and  food 

For  Faith  to  feed  on  till  the  trumpet  sound. 


112 


BROUGHT  TO  BAPTISM 


Brought  to  Baptism 

Here  have  ye  brought  this  child  to  be  baptized, 
Ye  faithful  ones  !     God  shall  reward  your  care, 
And  this  sweet  babe  shall  henceforth  duly  share 
The  heritage  of  saints.     Oh  !  who  hath  prized 
So  great  a  gift  enough,  or  hath  surmised 
The  greatness  of  the  love  that  now  to  prayer 
And  faith  descends  to  make  us  clean  and  fair, 
So  angels  may  attend  us,  lest,  advised 
Of  evil,  we  submit,  and  win  not  heaven. 
Dear  little  one  !     Thou  shall  be  gently  fed 
With  sacred  food  free  from  all  earthly  leaven  : 
The  Shepherd  Good  that  all  thy  fathers  led 
Shall  lead  thee  too,  and  when  the  shadowy  even 
Surrounds  thy  soul,  He  shall  lift  up  thine  head. 


113 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Public  Catechising 

It  is  a  sight  that  gladdens  and  inspires 

When  parish  children  meet  at  evensong 

Within  the  holy  place,  and  hear  the  strong 

Deep  burden  of  the  word,  and  feel  the  fires 

Of  ages  burn  upon  their  hearts:  in  choirs 

They  sing  their  tender  hymns,  and  then  await 

The  pastor's  questions,  near  the  chancel  gate 

All  duly  ranged,  as  long  ago  their  sires, 

In  whose  strong  faith  they  walk.    Doctrine  and  duty, 

Sacrament  and  prayer,  and  the  holy  vows 

Made  at  the  font,  when  on  their  infant  brows 

The  cross  was  signed,  in  fresh  sweet  light  they  see. 

O  Pastors !  be  ye  diligent  and  wise, 

And  in  your  solemn  churches  catechize. 


114 


VOICES  OF  CHILDREN 


Voices  of  Children 

O  little  melodies  that  fill  the  air 

Like  winged  joys  arrayed  in  silver  beams, 

You  make  the  world  a  realm  of  gentle  dreams, 

And  spread  before  me  visions  sweet  and  fair ! 

Your  voices,  dearest  children,  in  which  care 

Has  made  no  rift,  flow  on  like  limpid  streams 

O'er  rosy  rocks,  and  blend  in  gleeful  screams 

In  one  cascade  of  sound  !    Would  I  were  there 

To  drown  my  heart  in  your  dear  tender  mirth, 

And  be  a  child  again  a  little  while ! 

What  grace  is  Childhood's,  innocent  and  free, 

Pure  as  the  freshest  dawn,  and  without  guile ! 

Thou  hast  a  beautiful  eternity, 

O  child !     Thy  mother- world  shall  thrill  and  smile 

For  ever,  when  she  hears,  and  thinks  on  thee. 


"5 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The  Sacrifice 

God  will  provide  Himself  a  lamb,  my  son  !  " 
So  Abraham  to  Isaac,  and  they  two 
Went  on.     They  climbed  the  hill  beneath  the  blue 
Bright  morn,  silent  as  death,  as  if  to  stone 
And  adamant  the  world  had  turned,  and  moan 
Must  not  be  heard  on  that  highway.     "  How  few 
His  years  and  fair !  "  bethought  the  sire  so  true 
And  kind,"  yet  let  God's  sovereign  will  be  done  !  " 
The  soft  winds  played  about  the  boy's  bright  locks 
And  sunbeams  on  his  brow  their  blessings  laid  ; 
O  agony  !  O  faith  !  O  silent  rocks  ! 
O  heart  that  naught  can  ever  make  afraid  ! 
And  God  received  the  lamb  for  sacrifice, 
And  gave  it  back  to  faithful  heart  and  eyes. 


116 


ELISHA  '5  BONES 


Elisha's  Bones 

It  was  a  happy  chance,  as  men  would  say, 

That  gave  revival  to  a  burnt-out  life  ; 

When  frightened  sore  by  Moab's  band  of  strife 

They  waited  not  their  dead  to  put  away 

In  grave  for  it  prepared,  but  turned  to  lay 

It  in  Elisha's  tomb.     Lo  !  How  their  grief 

Fled  far  with  Death  surprised  ;  whose  thraldom  brief 

At  touch  of  saintly  bones  was  like  the  play 

Of  lightning,  that  startles  and  is  gone.     So 

Let  darker  shadows  intercept  our  gloom, 

And  from  unnoted  founts  fresh  comfort  flow. 

We  sadly  think  we  have  caught  up  with  doom 

Only  to  find  our  hearts  with  rapture  glow, 

When  withered  hopes  revive  in  Jesus'  tomb  ! 


117 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


O  When  Shall  All  This  World 

Oh  !  When  shall  all  this  world  that  Thou  hast  made 
Acknowledge  Thee,  Great  King !     When    shall  the 

lands 
That  lie  in  darkness  stretch  their  open  hands 
To  Thee  for  light,  and  on  Thy  gracious  aid 
Lean  willingly  !  When  shall  the  awful  shade 
Of  death  pass  from  our  race,  and  we  take  on 
Our  destined  sanctity  !     Oh  !  from  Thy  throne 
Look  down,  and  to  all  Christian  men  afraid 
To  give  themselves  and  all  they  have  to  Thee, 
Give  strength  Divine,  that  so  Thy  will  supreme 
May  lead  them  on  to  drive  the  heathen  dream 
From  this  Thy  world  !     We  never  shall  be  free 
To  bring  all  men  to  Thee,  till  we  bring  all 
We  are  and  have  and  love  when  Thou  dost  call ! 


118 


WITH  HIM  IN  THE  HOLY  MOUNT 


With  Him  in  the  Holy  Mount 

Oh  !  May  we  not  with  Jesus  make  our  way 

To  where  the  cloud  rests  on  the  mountain  top, 

As  if  the  open  heavens  of  God  will  drop 

Down  righteousness,  and  there  behold  Him  pray, 

And  manifest  His  glory  ?     May  we  stay 

While  saints  adore  their  King,  and  of  His  death 

And  passion  speak  :  and  feel  the  soothing  breath 

Of  heaven  about  our  brows  ?     Shall  inner  day 

Unfold  upon  the  night  its  sevenfold  beam 

And  bathe  us  in  its  tender  waves  of  gold, 

That  through  eternal  years  have  calmly  rolled 

From  sphere  to  sphere  ?     Shall  we  forget  our  dream 

Of  sorrow  for  a  while,  and  talk  of  joy  ? 

Our  hours  with  Him  we  thus  may  oft  employ. 


119 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Lest  Ye  be  Faint 

Lest  ye  be  faint  and  weary  in  your  minds, 

Consider  Him,  O  Christians  !  that  endured 

The  scornful  words  of  sinful  men.    Allured 

Are  all  our  hearts  by  Him  who  binds 

Our  safety  with  His  life,  and  round  us  winds 

His  cords  of  love.     These  hearts  shall  be  assured 

Before  Him  Who  through  sacrifice  has  cured 

Them  of  the  primal  fault,  and  always  finds 

In  pity  how  His  pardon  He  shall  show, 

When  oft  we  grieve  Him  kind.     Ah  !  Blessed  One  ! 

Thou  diedst,  but  our  spirits  gently  flow 

Along  the  even  beds  of  peace,  and  shun 

The  peril  and  the  pain.     We  cannot  know 

How  much  Thou  spentest  for  our  kingdom  won  ! 


1 20 


JOY 


Joy 


Who  that  has  joy  hears  not  some  undertone 

Of  sadness  stealing  through  the  usual  theme 

Of  His  continual  song,  and  will  not  deem 

His  life  monotonous  if  joy  alone 

His  portion  were  !     'Twould  be  a  heavy  stone 

To  weigh  him  down,  and  make  this  living  seem 

A  kind  of  folly,  and  a  mordant  dream. 

Joy  is  itself  when  underneath  its  throne 

Sorrow  is  chained,  not  lost  to  memory, 

So  he  may  see  from  what  a  bitter  woe 

And  servitude  he  has  been  freed.     Thus  he 

Rejoices  in  his  joy,  and  in  its  glow 

Glories  aright — so  his  humility, 

Kept  fresh  by  thought  of  sorrow,  quells  the  foe. 


121 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Paradise 

I  stand  upon  thy  threshold  and  look  in, 
O  Paradise  !  Mine  eyes  droop  as  in  sleep, 
While  in  thy  soft  and  mellow  haze  they  steep 
Themselves.     O  blissful  meadows  where  no  sin 
Blights  the  immortal  blooms,  where  spirits  win 
With  toilless  ease  essential  joys  and  reap 
Unutterable  peace  !  Who  would  not  keep 
Thy  sabbaths,  all  forgetful  of  the  din 
Of  time's  great  billows  ?     O,  thou  happy  vale  ! 
What  music  fills  my  soul  with  blessedness 
Too  deep  for  earth,  which  memory  will  fail 
To  echo  when  the  vision  fades  !     O,  bless 
My  ears  again  !     Come  quickly  like  a  sail 
O'er  Summer  waves,  with  messages  of  peace. 


122 


/,V  THAT  DAY 


In   That  Day 

When  heavens  renewed  reflect  the  earth  renewed, 

And  righteousness  within  them  all  shall  shine 

All  perfected  forever  ;  there  shall  swell 

Upon  the  wildered  air  the  song  bedewed 

Of  holiest  grace,  from  that  great  multitude 

Innumerable  by  man.     Who  can  tell 

Its  burden  while  within  this  narrow  fell 

He  lingers  waiting  till  the  tempest  rude 

Is  past !  O  blessed  be  the  certain  day 

That  must  o'ertop  the  hills  in  God's  own  time, 

When  darkness  flees  away,  and  light  sublime 

And  unsubduable  pours  forth  its  ray 

On  all  created  things  !  and  all  respond 

As  waters  to  the  skies  in  sunbeams  blond  ! 


123 


DECEMBER    MUSINGS 


The  Peace  of  God 

'Tis  afternoon.     The  far-off  summer  hill 

Sleeps  in  this  Sunday  glory  like  a  saint 

Awaiting  resurrection.    Shadows  faint 

Mysteriously  o'er  it  fall ;  the  still 

Sweet  gentle  fields  in  slumbrous  softness  fill 

With  calm  delight  the  pensive  eye.     Complaint 

Of  beast  or  bird  is  not.     Every  taint 

Of  busy  life  seems  banished  hence  until 

The  earth  seems  changed  to  heaven.     The  tender  air 

Is  mildly  fragrant  with  the  balm  of  flowers. 

Far  off  the  shining  river  glides  as  fair 

As  glides  this  mellow  flow  of  quiet  hours. 

Lo !  at  his  door  the  pastor,  free  from  care, 

Sees  stretching  far  away  the  heavenly  bowers. 


124 


PEACE  IS  A  PEARL 


Peace  is   a  Pearl 

Peace  is  a  pearl  found  in  the  glassy  sea 
And  worn  upon  the  brow  of  such  as  dwell 
In  that  far  happy  land  ineffable, 
That's  hidden  in  its  own  deep  mystery. 
They  borrow  it  who  by  these  angels  three 
Are  visited — Repentance,  Faith  and  Love  ; 
But  here  it  shines  not  as  it  doth  above, 
But  hath  a  wavering  gleam,  its  purity 
Dependeth  on  the  strength  of  holy  light 
In  which  they  live  and  pray,  just  as  a  coal 
Ripens  with  flame  or  pales  beneath  the  flight 
Of  airy  wings  ;  but  oh  !  the  sacred  soul 
Shall  have  it  for  its  own  'mid  spirits  bright, 
And  it  shall  shine  like  stars  about  the  pole. 


125 


DECEMBER   MUSINGS 


The  Faithful  Pastor 

Far  in  my  heart  I  have  a  solemn  shrine 

All  consecrated  to  a  pastor  dear — 
True  man  of  God,  of  love  almost  divine, 

Whose  memory  is  ever  bright  and  clear. 

Oft  doth  his  image  stand  before  my  eyes  ; 

He  seems  to  speak,  as  in  the  days  of  yore, 
Some  precept  holy  or  some  counsel  wise, 

Some  gentle  lesson  from  his  well-wrought  store. 

Oft  in  the  quiet  of  his  own  abode 

From  classic  pages  he  would  turn  away 

To  talk  av/hile  about  the  heavenly  road, 
And  point  me  to  the  glad  eternal  day. 

With  studies  would  he  mingle  holy  fires, 

And  speak  with  tongues  not  used  in  Greece  or 
Rome  ; 

And  walking  midst  the  flowers,  his  pure  desires 
Still  would  be  kindling  for  our  Father's  home. 

In  Church  he  seemed  a  saintly  angel  blest, 
A  rare  beatitude  his  presence  shed ; 

He  lent  a  beauty  to  the  sacred  vest, 

And  from  our  hearts  all  earthly  feeling  fled. 


126 


THE  FAITHFUL  PASTOR 


The  sermon  deeply  touched  the  quivering  soul, 
And  wrought  a  sense  of  sin  within  the  breast: 

Then  Jesus'  mercies  he  would  all  unroll, 
Forgiveness,  victory  and  endless  rest. 

Then  rare  and  wonderful  it  was  to  see 

With  what  devout  and  tender  awe  he  stood 

To  break  the  pledge  of  immortality, 

And  give  into  our  hands  the  heavenly  food. 

And  when  he  came  to  bless  us  all  at  last, 

We   scarce  could  see  his  form  through  blissful 
tears ; 

Glories  and  gifts  came  raining  down  so  fast, 

And  love  that  fills  the  heart  and  casts  out  fears. 

Once  there  was  dread  and  sorrow  nigh  at  hand, 
My  sire  lay  half  within  the  shadowy  vale  ; 

The  good  man  came,  and  all  about  that  land, 

Which    Christ    prepares   he  talked  till  twilight 
pale. 

He  read  the  fourteenth  chapter  of  Saint  John, 
As  only  he  could  read  who  felt  it  all : 

Then  prayed  that  as  in  heaven  God's  glory  shone, 
So  here  on  earth  His  tender  light  might  fall. 


^7 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


They  both  long  since  have  faded  from  our  view, 
No  more  on  earth  I'll  see  their  kindly  forms; 

But  in  the  angels'  eyes  they  brighter  grew 

As  rainbows  brighten  after  earthly  storms. 

My  God  !  I  thank  Thee  that  in  early  years 
I  often  saw  Thy  faithful  servant's  face, 

And  that  so  often  now  it  still  appears 

In  vivid  vision  and  with  all  its  grace. 

I  still  would  follow  where  he  led  the  way, 

And  in  his  shining  footsteps  place  my  feet : 

I  would  be  worthy,  Lord,  to  dwell  alway 

Where    still   might   be  diffused  such    influence 
sweet. 

I  would  all  pastors  might  be  fashioned  so, 

That  strength  and  healing  on  their  lives  might 
wait : 

That  all  the  people  might  in  goodness  grow 
And  come  with  singing  unto  Sion's  gate. 

Here  then  I'll  write  for  all  our  pastors  dear 
His  epitaph,  that  they  may  learn  it  well : 

And  beg  them  all  to  follow  very  near 

This  pattern  true,  of  whom  I  joy  to  tell. 


12; 


THE  FAITHFUL  PASTOR 


Epitaph.     S.  B.  B. 

To  others  gentle,  to  himself  severe, 

Within  his  face  the  light  of  goodness  shined  ; 
Temperate  and  modest,  simple  and  sincere, 

His  was  a  chastened  soul  to  God  resigned. 

One  only  thought  within  his  bosom  reigned — 
To  make  Christ  precious  in  the  eyes  of  men  : 

And  now  this  blest  reward  he  has  attained, 

To  rest  in  peace  till  Christ  shall  come  again. 


129 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The  Temporal  and  the  Eternal 

How  subtle  and  how  fugitive 

Our  loftiest  thoughts  and  feelings  are  ! 
Some  sordid  care  a  moment  takes, 

And  when  we  seek  they  are  not  there. 

So  vanish  all  the  fairest  things 

That  earth  or  sky  can  entertain  ; 

The  dewdrop  and  the  sunset  glow 
Seem  almost  to  be  fair  in  vain. 

Those  shadowy  lights  that  sometimes  come 
Across  our  waking,  shapes  serene 

That  for  majestic  moments  glide 
Before  us  in  a  mystic  sheen, 

Those  wavering  pinnacles  and  domes 

Of  thought  and  prayer  that  lift  the  soul, 

And  tender  mists  and  rosy  dreams 
Once  touched,  away  together  roll. 


no 


THE  TEMPORAL  AND  THE  ETERNAL 


It  will  not  be  forever  thus, 

The  world  we  seek  is  brighter  far 
Than  all  that's  lovely  round  us  here — 

Sublimer  than  the  mountains  are. 

Our  troubled  vision  shall  grow  calm, 
Like  waters  when  the  breezes  fail ; 

And  things  too  holy  to  wait  long 
Upon  it  here,  shall  never  pale. 

Thy  tranquil  eye  shall  see  the  king 
In  all  His  beauty  ;  then  be  sure 

All  else  that's  holy,  fair,  divine, 

Thine  eye  shall  see  in  regions  pure. 


i  Si 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The  Troubles  of  this  Life 

Life's  troubles  in  great  part  are  like 
A  breath  upon  the  window-pane, 

A  moment  spread  across  our  view, 
And  in  a  moment  gone  again. 

But  some  are  like  the  nightly  frost 
That  gathers  on  the  windcw-pane, 

And  will  not  pass  until  the  sun 

Or  fire  shines  out  all  bright  again. 

But  all  shall  surely  pass  away 

That  linger  on  life's  window-pane  ; 

We  shall  look  out  and  see  all  clear 

When  our  true  Sun  shall  rise  again, 


1 32 


CLEAR  SHINING  AFTER  RAIN 


Clear  Shining  after  Rain 

Oh  !  it  is  sweet  to  hear  the  birds 

Sing  gaily  after  lengthened  rains, 

As  if  the  pent-up  melodies 

Mixed  with  their  pleasure  subtle  pains. 

And  blessed  will  it  be,  my  child ! 

To  let  our  hearts  pour  out  their  songs, 
Which  grow  in  us  through  earthly  storms, 

When  open  heaven  to  us  belongs. 

Clear  shining  after  rain,  clear  notes 
That  fill  the  sky  with  mystery, 

Clear  hearts  washed  free  from  every  sin, 
Clear  souls  to  love,  clear  eyes  to  see  : 

All  shall  be  ours  ;  the  atmosphere 

Of  peace  and  pardon,  light  and  grace 

Around  us  evermore  shall  fall ; 

For  we  shall  see  our  Father's  face. 


133 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


To  Comfort  All  that  Mourn 

Mournest  thou,  friend  of  the  Bridegroom  ? 

Alas  !  how  dim  and  poor  thine  eyes 
That  see  not  in  this  very  room 

A  glory  fairer  than  the  skies. 

Jesus  is  with  thee,  crowned  with  light, 
And  robed  in  majesty  divine  ; 

The  board  is  spread  before  thy  sight, 
He  turns  the  water  into  wine. 

Be  ready  always  to  sit  down, 

For  His  is  a  perpetual  feast ; 
Each  day  His  love  afresh  is  shown, 

He  is  the  Everlasting  Priest. 

All  days  are  holy  where  He  is, 

All  places  clean  where  He  abides ; 

The  air  is  radiant  with  bliss, 

Wherein  His  saving  presence  hides. 


134 


TO  COMFORT  ALL  THAT  MOURN 


While  here  with  Him  I  feast  and  sing, 

The  years  shall  pass  away  like  flowers 

Then  like  a  bird  upon  the  wing 

I'll  fly  with  Him  from  wintry  bowers 

To  where  the  light  is  always  calm, 
And  mellow  breezes  fragrant  fall, 

In  time  and  tune  with  that  pure  psalm 
That  hallows  there  the  heart  of  all. 


135 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 

Stir  Up  Thy  Strength  and 
Come  and  Help  Us 

O  let  Thy  cross  give  forth  new  light 

Through  all  the  nations  far  and  wide  ; 

Dawn  on  man's  bleared  and  blinking  sight, 
O  vision  of  the  Crucified  ! 

Stir  up  in  us  the  will  to  grow 

From  weakness  unto  living  strength  ; 
Cause  us  the  way  of  life  to  know, 

That  we  may  reach  the  goal  at  length. 

Convert  our  power  to  power  like  thine, 
And  our  poor  love  make  love  indeed  : 

That  we  may  work  Thy  work  divine 
And  help  to  fill  the  human  need. 

The  world  lies  unconverted  yet, 

Because  we  are  unworthy  Thou 

Shouldst  bring  the  nations  to  forget 
The  idols  under  which  they  bow. 

If  we  would  trample  on  our  sin 

The  world  would  raze  its  heathen  fanes, 
Then  Thou  wouldst  wholly  enter  in 

And  consecrate  our  streets  and  lanes. 


136 


STIR  UP  THY  STRENGTH 


In  clothing  soft  Thy  prophets  walk, 
And  dwell  in  royal  courts  at  ease, 

And  spirits  perish  while  they  talk 

Of  only  what  their  patrons  please. 

Raise  up  Thy  power  and  come  anear 
And  quicken  us  to  do  Thy  will — 

That  will  so  holy  and  austere — 
Renew  it  in  us  ever  still. 

Make  us  to  dread  Thy  vengeance  now 
Lest  when  too  late  we  turn  to  see 

The  recompense  for  broken  vow— 
A  shattered  immortality ! 


*37 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Our  Shield  and  Our  Reward 

Waiting  for  Thy  salvation,  Lord, 
I  pass  the  days  and  years, 

Through  famine,  exile,  suffering 
I  see  Thy  hand  appears. 

'Tis  Thou  that  leadest  us  along 
Like  sheep  from  hill  to  vale, 

And  feedest  us  with  daily  bread, 
E'en  when  our  pastures  fail. 

Sad  and  forsaken  in  the  land 

We  find  Thee  strong  and  true — 

A  friend  that  never  left  alone 

The  hearts  that  near  Thee  drew. 

Our  pilgrimage  is  nearly  o'er — 
The  few  and  evil  days — 

Our  home  stands  out  before  our  eyes, 
The  realm  of  endless  praise. 

From  death  to  life  we  quickly  pass, 
From  darkness  into  light : 

And  angels  carry  up  our  souls 
To  walk  with  Thee  in  white  ! 


133 


THE  FATHER  SEEKETH   WORSHIPPERS 


The  Father    Seeketh  Worshippers 

The  Father  seeketh  worshippers 
Among  the  sons  of  time, 

That  in  His  angels'  melodies 

May  take  their  part  sublime. 

I  marvel  when  I  read  the  words, 
"  The  Father  seeketh  such," 
What  love  is  this  that  stoops  to  earth 


With  spirit  and  with  truth  divine, 
With  fire  and  vision  clear, 

That  we  may  rightly  worship  Him, 
And  at  His  throne  appear  ! 

Long  have  we  spent  our  sighs  in  vain, 
With  earthliness  oppressed  : 

For  things  that  perish  in  the  use 
Forgot  what's  first  and  best ; 


139 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


But  heed  me  now  this  gracious  word, 
"  The  Father  seekest  you," 

And  be  henceforth  His  worshippers, 
And  sing  his  truth  anew 

With  souls  that  answer  to  the  truth, 
And  walk  within  the  light ; 

Come  thou,  and  sing  within  us  all, 
O  Spirit  Infinite ! 


140 


WOULD  THE  PEOPLE  WERE  PROPHETS 


Would  that  all  the  Lord's  People  were 
Prophets  " 

O  slow  of  heart  that  will  not  take 

God's  word  and  prove  it  true 
By  work  and  love,  and  for  His  sake 

Make  it  of  heaven  the  clue. 

Raise  up,  O  Lord,  Thy  power  of  old 

And  touch  the  people's  heart : 
Give  them  true  light  and  make  them  bold 

To  speak  in  street  and  mart. 

Raise  up  Thy  witnesses  like  John, 

That  in  the  ancient  flood 
Repenting  tribes  baptized,  and  won 

Vast  multitudes  to  God. 

Be  Ruler  midst  Thine  enemies, 

Unloose  Thy  conquering  bands; 

For  Thou  art  great  and  true  and  wise, 
That  all  the  heaven  commands. 


141 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The  Pastor's  Prayer 

Make  me  a  lamp,  and  fill  me  with  Thy  light, 
That  through  the  dark  and  stormy  paths  of  night 
I  may  lead  on  some  wandering  souls  to  where 
The  morning  soon  must  break  all  clear  and  fair. 

Give  me  the  power  to  do  some  certain  good, 
Although  it  be  not  all  Thy  servant  would ; 
Not  only  when  I  work  and  speak  and  pray, 
But  even  when  I  rest  by  night  or  day. 

The  rose,  unconscious  of  its  fragrance  sweet, 
Gives  pleasure  though  it  have  no  hands  nor  feet ; 
True  lives  do  good  when  labor  turns  to  rest, 
And  they  who  simply  look  on  them  are  blest. 

The  rain  does  good  not  only  when  it  falls 
Upon  the  famished  fields,  but  after  calls 
For  many  days  a  blessing  down  from  heaven, 
From  morn  till  noon,  from  noon  to  peaceful  even. 

So  truly,  fully  would  I  do  each  deed 

That  this  should  be  its  lasting,  glorious  meed, 

That  never  should  its  benefit  be  spent 

So  long  as  any  live  for  whom  'tis  meant. 


142 


THE  PASTOR'S  PRAYER 


Shine  Thou  through  all  my  dim,  sequestered  hours, 
As  when  I  labor  with  unfolded  powers  ; 
Live  Thou  through  me  in  others  far  and  near, 
To  whom  at  any  time  I  taught  Thy  fear. 

Bless  all  that  ever  heard  my  voice  in  prayer, 
Who  lingered  when  through  all  the  solemn  air 
Ascended  words  of  living  sacrifice, 
And  grace  poured  down  in  torrents  from  the  skies. 

Bless  all  that  were  regenerate  through  me, 
And  knelt  within  the  shadow  of  the  tree ; 
And  all  that  ever  came  within  the  gate — 
The  needy,  weak  and  sick,  and  desolate. 

I  know  not  what  shall  be  in  future  years, 

I  shall  not  suffer  any  foolish  fears ; 

But  make  me  ready  for  to  stay  or  go 

As  Thou  shalt  choose  for  me,  Lord  !  be  it  so. 


143 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


"  He  Wist  not  That  it  was   True 

Peter — the  worn  Apostle — slept 

Upon  his  prison  bed, 
While  many  in  the  city  wept 

Lest  he  should  join  the  dead. 

But  lo  !  an  angel  at  his  side 
Took  off  his  weary  chain, 

The  iron  gate  was  opened  wide, 
And  he  was  free  again. 

At  first  he  wist  not  it  was  true, 
But  thought  a  vision  rose 

Upon  his  troubled  soul,  and  drew 
Between  him  and  his  woes. 

But  in  the  breezes  of  the  night 
His  spirit  wakened  clear, 

He  knew  that  now  an  angel  bright 
Had  been  so  very  near. 

O  !  that  we  all  had  eyes  to  see 

Our  kind  Deliverer 
Come  to  our  prison  tenderly 

And  loose  our  fetters  there  ! 


144 


HE  WIST  NOT  THAT  IT  W AS  TRUE 


And  think  not  it  must  be  a  dream 
Because  so  wonderful ; 

For  nothing  can  He  ever  deem 
Too  great  to  save  a  soul. 

Tis  not  a  vision  that  I  see, 

'Tis  God  Who  worketh  all — 

My  God  that  from  eternity 
Comes  to  my  prison  wall. 

O  !  it  is  true  as  heaven  above, 

His  angel  I  behold, 
And  He  shall  bring  me  in  His  love 

Within  the  gates  of  gold. 


H5 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


God  is  Greater  Than  Our  Heart 

When  we  choose  the  evil  way, 
Fearless  of  the  judgment  day, 
And  from  holiness  depart, 
God  is  greater  than  our  heart. 

When  the  darkness  fills  our  eyes, 
So  we  see  not  in  the  skies 
Visions  richer  than  man's  art, 
God  is  greater  than  our  heart. 

If  the  light  within  us  burn 
Dimly,  so  we  cannot  learn 
Truths  not  spoken  in  the  mart, 
God  is  greater  than  our  heart. 

Though  we  take  not  up  the  cross 
Daily  to  our  worldly  loss, 
Suffering  its  healing  smart, 
God  is  greater  than  our  heart. 


146 


GOD  IS  GREATER  THAN  OUR  HEART 


If  His  finger  gently  touch 
And  our  heart  condemn  us  much, 
Or  He  smite  with  heavy  dart, 
God  is  greater  than  our  heart. 

When  we  wade  through  perils  deep 
And  great  bitter  tears  we  weep, 
Only  this  can  peace  impart, 
God  is  greater  than  our  heart. 

Then  will  I  most  humbly  pray 
For  His  mercy  in  that  day  : 
And  with  this  His  word  depart, 
God  is  greater  than  our  heart. 


147 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


For    Thou    Art  with  Me 

Although  my  sorrows  have  been  great  and  sore, 

I  will  not  weep  : 
The  sea  of  God's  sweet  mercy  I  explore 

And  find  it  deep  : 
The  pearl  of  peace  I  find  for  my  sad  soul ; 
And  now  I  know  I  shall  be  well  and  whole. 

His  care  is  always  tender  and  so  true, 

I  will  not  fear : 
His  kindness  with  my  trouble  always  grew 

To  soothe  and  cheer  : 
His  blessing  with  me  doth  He  always  share, 
And  lo  !  He  never  shutteth  out  my  prayer. 

His  throne  of  love  stands  open  to  mine  eyes  ; 

I  will  not  fail 
Nor  be  discouraged  since  the  sacred  skies 

Their  lights  unveil ; 
I  will  go  on  to  learn  His  gracious  will 
And  He  will  bear  with  all  my  weakness  still. 


148 


ALL  DAY  LONG  THE  STARS  ARE  SHINING 


All  Day  Long  the  Stars  are  Shining 

All  day  long  the  stars  are  shining, 

Though  their  forms  we  cannot  see  : 

Their  pure  glories  intertwining 
Make  a  white  immensity. 

Seems  your  life  so  weak  and  narrow, 

Children  of  this  mortal  day  ? 
Are  you  better  than  the  sparrow 

Flitting  in  the  morning  ray  ? 

Ah  !  Your  influence  who  can  measure  ? 

Which  unseen  is  ever  felt ; 
Like  the  stars,  you  have  a  treasure, 

Which  in  other  lives  must  melt. 

Could  those  stars  undo  their  being 

When  the  sunlight  hides  their  beams, 

Earth  and  sun  and  orbs  were  fleeing 
Swiftly  down  destruction's  streams. 

Influence  must  work  on  for  ever, 

Even  when  withdrawn  from  sight 

That  which  makes  it,  like  a  river, 
Flows  through  regions  infinite. 


149 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


All  night  long  the  sun  is  gleaming 
Over  lands  unlike  our  own  ; 

Millions  wake  while  we  are  dreaming, 
Quickened  at  his  awful  throne. 

God  is  working  while  we're  sleeping  ; 

In  His  love  our  spirits  share; 
And  from  hill  to  hill  is  leaping 

Grace  and  Providential  care. 

All  the  universe  is  thrilling 

With  creative  life  and  power ; 

Mind-abysses  fast  are  filling 
With  an  everlasting  dower. 

We  must  hope  to  see  but  little 

Of  the  boundless  work  of  love, 

Though  not  e'en  a  jot  or  tittle 
Fail  its  victory  to  prove. 

'Tis  enough  that  God  the  Holy 
Teaches  us  to  do  His  will ; 

And  that  in  a  spirit  lowly 

We  believe  and  labor  still. 


5o 


ONE  THING  HAVE  I  DESIRED 


One  Thing  Have  I  Desired 

One  thing  of  God  I  do  desire, 

And  for  it  always  pray, 
That  where  he  lights  His  sacred  fire 

I  may  forever  stay. 

Each  morn  the  streams  of  heavenly  grace 

I  wish  to  see  flow  down  : 
Each  eve  I  fain  would  see  His  face, 

His  sceptre  and  His  crown. 

Each  day  I  wish  to  hear  the  bells 

Upon  His  priestly  dress, 
And  listen  while  the  trumpet  tells 

Of  all  His  righteousness. 

Each  day  I  wish  to  bring  my  gift, 

And  on  the  altar  lay : 
And  all  my  wakened  powers  uplift 

While  there  I  meekly  pray. 


151 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


I  wish  to  sit  at  Jesus'  feet 

While  He  unfolds  the  love, 

So  true  and  wonderful  and  sweet, 
That  purchased  heaven  above. 

I  wish  to  grow  each  day  like  Him, 
Who  died  upon  the  tree, 

And  soon  exchange  these  regions  dim 
For  bright  eternity. 

The  morning  hastens  to  appear 
When  He  shall  take  me  home, 

O  let  me  bid  farewell  to  fear 
And  say,  Lord  Jesus,  come  ! 


152 


THE  EUCHARIST1C  HOUR 


The  Eucharistic  Hour 

The  victory  is  Thine,  O  Christ  ! 

The  cross  set  forth  Thy  power ; 
And  lo  !     The  blessed  Eucharist 

Proclaims  it  at  this  hour. 

In  faith  we  find  Thee,  Son  of  God ; 

We  know  Thee,  who  Thou  art ! 
We  come  to  Thee;  and  in  Thy  blood 

Seek  peace  for  every  heart. 

Over  our  souls  the  Spirit  broods, 

How  calm  it  is  around ! 
No  voice  of  earthly  care  intrudes, 

We  kneel  on  holy  ground. 

Now  hear  we  from  the  awful  throne 
Set  in  the  realms  of  bliss, 

1  Lo  !  This  is  My  Beloved  Son, 
In  whom  My  pleasure  is." 


153 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Our  sorrow  turns  to  joy  ;  our  ears 
Are  thrilled  with  solemn  strains 

Which  echo  from  immortal  spheres, 
Where  love  forever  reigns. 

O  rapture  !     When  believing  souls 
Find  Jesus  strong  and  kind, 

O'er  them  from  heaven  a  glory  rolls, 
In  them  the  light  hath  shined. 


154 


AWAKE  AND  SING 


Awake  and  Sing 

Dear  little  souls  !    awake  and  sing, 

For  this  is  Christmas  Day  ; 
Angels  have  long  been  on  the  wing 

To  light  your  Saviour's  way  : 
The  heavens  above  are  bright  and  blue, 
To  God  your  tender  praise  is  due ; 
Awake  and  sing, 
Jesus  is  King, 
All  on  this  Christmas  Day. 

My  little  lambs,  I  am  so  glad 
That  Jesus  Christ  is  born, 
This  world  would  be  so  very  sad 
Without  its  Christmas  morn  ; 
But  now  He  brings  us  all  good  cheer 
And  makes  us  happy  every  year  ; 
Awake  and  sing  , 
Jesus  is  King, 
All  on  this  Christmas  Day. 


155 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Our  Heavenly  Father  is  so  good 

And  always  kind,  I  know  : 
He  gives  us  all  our  daily  food, 
Because  He  loves  us  so  ; 
But  now  He  sends  His  only  Son 
To  comfort  every  little  one  ; 
Awake  and  sing, 
Jesus  is  King, 
All  on  this  Christmas  Day. 

I  wonder  how  we  all  can  show 

Our  thankfulness  and  love  ! 
O  yes  !  we  all  can  daily  grow 

Like  Him  who  reigns  above : 
We  all  can  be  more  sweet  and  kind, 
Some  holy  duty  we  can  find  ; 
Awake  and  sing, 
Jesus  is  King, 
All  on  this  Christmas  Day. 


i56 


AWAKE  AND  SING 


I  love  to  hear  the  Christmas  bells 

Ring  out  their  merry  chime, 
It  seems  as  if  an  angel  tells 
The  tidings  of  the  time  : 
It  seems  as  if  my  heart  goes  forth 
To  west  and  east  and  south  and  north 
Awake  and  sing, 
Jesus  is  King, 
All  on  this  Christmas  Day. 


157 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


A  Psalm  of  Gladness 

My  soul !  look  up,  rejoice  and  sing, 
And  to  thy  God  oblations  bring : 
A  ready  will  His  will  to  learn, 
A  love  that  for  His  love  will  yearn, 
A  hunger  for  His  righteousness, 
A  thirst  for  His  abundant  grace. 

Lift  up  thy  prayer  to  Him  who  hears, 

And  ask  for  freedom  from  thy  fears  ; 

For  faith  that  always  will  prevail, 

For  hope  that  nevermore  can  fail, 

For  joy  of  all  He  does  for  thee, 

For  peace  with  Him  who  makes  thee  free. 

Lift  up  thy  voice  in  gracious  praise 
And  bless  Him  for  His  righteous  ways  ; 
Exalt  Him  who  created  all, 
And  then  redeemed  thee  from  the  fall, 
And  now  makes  clean  thy  heart;within, 
And  saves  it  from  the  power  of  sin. 


i58 


A  PSALM  OF  GLADNESS 


O  let  thy  song  grow  sweeter  still, 
Since  He  thy  nature  came  to  fill 
With  graces  pure  and  manifold, 
More  precious  than  all  gifts  of  gold  : 
Who  even  was  content  to  die 
If  so  thou  mightest  reign  on  high. 

Aye  !  praise  Him  who  vouchsafes  to  live 
Within  thee  now,  nor  fails  to  give 
Whatever  thou  can'st  seek  or  need, 
Who  ceases  not  His  death  to  plead 
In  thy  behalf  before  the  throne, 
Nor  ever  leaves  thee  sad  and  lone. 

O  sing  some  new  and  purer  song, 
And  tell  His  mercies  all  day  long, 
Whose  pardon  flows  in  boundless  streams, 
Whose  recompense  before  thee  gleams, 
Who  saves  thee  from  the  dread  abyss, 
And  takes  thee  soon  to  endless  bliss ! 


159 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


By  Thy  Cross  and  Passion 

Saviour,  lifted  on  the  tree  ! 

Draw  my  spirit  unto  Thee  : 

Take  away  my  heavy  load, 

Strengthen  me  to  walk  the  road 

That  to  light's  great  realm  is  leading, 

Through  the  wounds  that  once  were  bleeding. 

Jesus  that  wast  crucified  ! 
Keep  me  ever  by  Thy  side ; 
Make  me  know  the  truth  divine, 
Let  it  through  my  spirit  shine  : 
Make  me  love  the  way  of  duty  ; 
Give  me  visions  of  Thy  beauty. 

For  Thy  dear  and  holy  cross 
Let  me  count  all  things  but  loss  : 
Cleanse  my  eyes  to  see  how  vain 
Is  this  world  of  sin  and  pain  : 
Then  upon  the  heavenly  morrow 
Turn  to  joy  Thy  servant's  sorrow  ! 


160 


WHY  WEE  PEST  THOU? 


Why  Weepest  Thou? 

Why  weepest  thou  ?  poor  sorrower ! 

Whom  seekest  thou  among  these  graves  ? 
Thy  Christ  reveals  Himself  to  thee 

As  one  who  by  His  rising  saves. 

Think  not  that  Death  can  always  hold 
Thy  treasures  in  his  dreaded  grasp, 

Those  blissful  feet  that  walk  in  light 
Thou  shalt  with  joy  undying  clasp. 

Dost  thou  not  know  that  Jesus  stands 
Before  the  gate  of  every  tomb, 

To  give  to  Faith  this  answer  sweet, 

That  deep  in  heaven  is  yet  more  room  ? 

That  angels  sit  in  sepulchres 

Clothed  in  their  garments  of  the  light, 
To  watch  while  faithful  ones  lie  still, 

Wrapt  in  soft  slumber  of  the  night  ? 

Then  go  and  tell  the  news  to  all 

That  weep  the  weary  hours  away, 

And  trust  His  coming,  soon  or  late, 
To  open  wide  the  realms  of  day. 


161 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Easter 

Awake  and  sing,  ye  dwellers  in  the  dust, 
For  lo  !  the  resurrection  of  the  just ! 
Arise  and  shine,  your  lasting  light  is  come, 
Soar  upward  to  your  pure  and  saintly  home. 

Awake  and  sing,  immortal  hearts  of  fire, 
That  now  for  visions  of  the  King  aspire  ; 
Ye  shall  behold  Him  in  His  robes  of  light ; 
Rejoice,  rejoice,  He  passeth  into  sight. 

O  never  have  ye  known  what  vision  is  ! 
O  never  have  ye  felt  so  deep  a  bliss ! 
The  end  for  which  He  made  you  now  is  won, 
Behold  the  planets  hasten  to  their  Sun. 

O  now  ye  put  on  joy  as  night  the  day, 

And  leap  with  praises,  that  once  knelt  to  pray  : 

Ye  waken  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  light 

To  new  and  yet  more  holy  anthems  bright. 

O  fruitful  voice  of  God  !  the  mighty  King  : 
O  faithful  power  of  Christ !     Let  everything 
That  breathes  and  loves  and  sweetly  sings  adore 
The  love  that  lives  and  sings  for  evermore  ! 


162 


IT  IS  THE  LORD 


It  is  the  Lord 

Rise  up,  my  fair  one,  come  away, 
And  clothe  Thee  with  the  golden  day  : 
Forget  the  past,  and  let  me  be 
Thy  light  and  joy  eternally. 

Behold  the  vision  in  the  skies  ! 
The  realms  of  beauty  greet  Thine  eyes  ; 
See'st  not  afar  that  radiant  dome  ? 
There  is  Thine  everlasting  home. 

There  will  I  all  my  glory  show, 
And  all  my  saints  shall  love  me  so  : 
I  never  told  them  half  the  things 
With  whose  bright  fame  all  heaven  rings. 

Speed  on,  my  fair  one,  haste  away . 
We  need  not  linger  by  the  way  ; 
The  future  shines,  the  past  is  not, 
Higher  and  higher  is  thy  lot. 


163 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


O  blessed  shalt  Thou  be,  my  dove, 
My  undefiled  !  Thy  Father's  love 
Shall  compass  Thee,  and  angels  sweet 
Shall  gather  to  Thy  shining  feet. 

And  all  that  love  Thee  shall  attend 
The  entrance  of  their  holy  friend  ; 
And  we  shall  find  a  glad  new  song 
One  blissful  rapture  to  prolong  ! 


164 


EASTER  JOY 


Easter  Joy 

Hast  thou  seen  the  vision  glorious  ? 

Jesus  is  alive  again  : 
Calm  is  He  and  all-victorious, 

Free  from  every  grief  and  pain  ; 
Now  the  tomb  a  temple  is, 
Now  the  realms  of  death  are  His. 

Hast  thou  heard  the  blessed  story  ? 

For  believers  heaven  is  won  ; 
Thou  may'st  dwell  in  endless  glory 

With  God's  dear  and  only  Son  ; 
Eden  blossoms  as  of  yore, 
Life  grows  brighter  evermore. 

Hast  thou  felt  the  awful  gladness  ? 

Thou  art  brother  to  thy  King  ; 
Far  from  earth  and  all  its  sadness 

Thou  shalt  soar  on  eagle's  wing'; 
For  He  is  our  risen  Lord — 
Jesus  in  our  flesh  adored. 


165 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Divine  Gifts 

A  light  shines  out  upon  the  sea, 
Perchance  some  message  comes  towards  thee 
O  who  can  tell  what  joys  are  sailing 
To  this  dark  shore  where  we  sit  wailing  ! 

The  love  of  God  ordains  us  good 
Long  ere  it  can  be  understood  : 
His  angels  now  prepare  the  treasures, 
With  which  at  last  to  fill  our  measures. 

The  stars  beneath  whose  beams  we  rest 
Rolled  into  shape  before  the  crest 
Of  wave  leaped  up,  or  surge  of  mountains, 
Yet  only  late  shined  here  like  fountains. 

Before  we  sinned  the  Saviour's  love 
Pleaded  our  pardon  there  above  ; 
Before  we  touched  the  sacred  chalice 
He  saved  us  from  sin's  scornful  malice. 

Peace  broods  upon  the  solemn  wave, 

Fit  is  the  time  a  boon  to  crave : 

This  is  my  prayer  that  heavenly  morrow 

Be  ours  though  here  we  now  have  sorrow. 


166 


SATURDAY  EVENING 


Saturday  Evening 

This  sun  that  sets  in  radiant  calm 
Shall  rise  to-morrow  to  the  psalm 
Of  thousands  upon  thousands,  where 
Altars  are  spread  with  linen  fair. 

And  ere  he  sets  again  he'll  shine 
On  consecrated  bread  and  wine, 
And  tears  that  gleam  awhile  unshed 
In  eyes  that  seem  to  see  the  dead. 

Then  shall  the  holy  psalms  be  sung, 
And  prayer  shall  rise  on  trembling  tongue, 
And  soul  shall  speak  to  soul  of  Him 
Who  comes  His  vine  to  prune  and  trim. 

Be  clean  and  ready,  O  my  heart 
In  such  dear  praise  to  take  thy  part ! 
In  such  sweet  notes  to  sing  awhile, 
And  sit  beneath  the  Father's  smile. 

A  light  shall  rest  on  Sion's  hill, 
God's  presence  shall  the  temple  fill ; 
A  light  shall  shine  within  the  breast 
That  humbly  goes  to  Him  for  rest. 


167 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Through  all  the  consecrated  hours 
Rest  midst  the  bloom  of  heavenly  flowers, 
Walk  by  the  banks  of  heavenly  streams, 
Kneel  when  the  torch  immortal  gleams. 

Perhaps  some  holy  day  at  even, 
When  many  prayers  pass  into  heaven, 
Thy  God  will  send  an  angel  wise 
To  bear  thee  into  Paradise. 

Perhaps  to-morrow's  eventide 
Shall  see  thee  with  the  Crucified  ; 
In  lowliness  confess  thy  sin, 
And  pray  that  thou  may'st  enter  in. 


168 


SUNDAY  MORNING 


Sunday  Morning 

To-day  Thy  mercy  shines 

In  many  an  ancient  fane, 

Over  the  sea  in  distant  lands, 
In  mountain  and  in  plain. 

Where  saints  have  slept  their  sleep 
Through  ages  long  agone, 

Under  the  arches  dim  and  gray, 
Under  the  towers  of  stone. 

Te  Deum  still  is  sung, 

And  all  the  holy  psalms  : 

Hymns,  like  the  oil  on  Aaron's  head, 
Pour  down  their  fragrant  balms. 

The  Apostolic  creed, 

All  glorious  as  of  old, 
Passes  on  notes  of  majesty 

In  through  the  gates  of  gold. 

The  sacred  word  is  taught, 

And  souls  of  holy  fear 
And  love  and  benedictions  filled, 

To  God  in  Christ  draw  near. 


169 


DECEMBER    MUSINGS 


The  Eucharistic  feast, 

With  simple,  solemn  rite, 

Is  given  to  God  and  given  to  man 
With  gladness  infinite. 

Through  this  new  land  of  ours 

The  same  sweet  mercy  streams, 

Where  temples  rise  all  consecrate, 
Fair  as  the  angels'  dreams. 

The  world  in  God  is  one, 

One  faith  unites  mankind 

In  golden  bonds  prepared  in  heaven, 
All  have  one  hope,  one  mind. 

To-day  I,  too,  must  sing  ; 

Prepare,  my  soul,  to  meet 
Thy  God,  thy  Saviour  and  thy  Friend, 

And  taste  His  mercy  sweet. 

Lift  up  thyself,  my  heart, 

Put  on  thy  robe  of  praise, 

Adorn  thyself,  and  oh  !  be  clean 
To  sing  such  holy  lays  ! 


170 


SUNDAY  EVENING 


Sunday    Evening 

In  an  old  legend  rare  and  quaint, 
A  sunbeam  covered  by  a  saint 
Beneath  her  veil  continued  bright 
Long  after  day  had  turned  to  night. 

The  beams  that  filled  the  world  to-day 
Fade  not,  though  noon  has  passed  away  : 
In  hearts  that  thought  to  hold  them  fast 
Some  tender  glory  long  will  last. 

For  Christ  the  Sun  of  Righteousness 
Adorns  the  Church  with  truth  and  grace, 
And  on  this  holiest  day  in  seven 
Prepares  our  souls  to  dwell  in  heaven. 

As  in  the  wind  the  waves  grow  white 
Our  souls  grow  pure  when  from  the  height 
Of  blissful  heaven  the  Holy  Ghost 
Breathes  on  "  the  Sacramental  host." 

O  blest  the  penitential  tears 
That  welcome  everlasting  years  ! 
O  blest  the  vows  renewed  to-day 
That  speed  us  on  our  homeward  way  ! 


171 


DECEMBER   MUSINGS 


O  blest  the  recompense  bestowed 
Instead  of  all  sin's  weary  load  ! 
O  blest  the  love  upon  us  poured 
By  Him  whom  all  the  world  adored  ! 

O  blest  the  people  everywhere 
Who  laid  aside  their  earthly  care  ! 
O  blest  the  hearts  that  found  a  place 
Wherein  to  see  their  Father's  face  ! 

And  blest  art  thou,  my  soul,  to-night 
That  entered  deeper  into  light ! 
O  may  we  all  grow  holier  thus, 
His  love  be  perfected  in  us  ! 


172 


EVENTIDE 


Eventide 

Breezes  soft  and  odorous 

That  lay  in  the  breast  of  the  rose 

Fly  about  at  evening's  close 

To  enjoy  the  calm  and  deep  repose, 

And  fan  mine  eyelids  feverous, 

And  fit  my  restless  spirit  thus 

For  night  and  starry  glows. 

Children's  voices  generous, 

That  sound  like  the  stroke  of  the  spheres, 

Swell  o'er  the  fields  like  other  years, 

Which  sorrowful  memory  often  hears, 

Like  gladness  toned  to  piteous 

Soft  gentle  cries  all-duteous, 

No  longer  fraught  with  tears. 

Blessings  bland  and  beauteous, 

That  fill  all  the  earth  and  the  sky, 

Float  over  me  and  make  me  sigh 

For  comfort  and  peace  with  God  on  high, 

And  voice  of  harp  victorious, 

And  sight  of  Him  all-glorious 

In  His  felicity. 


173 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Be  Not  Silent  Unto  Me 

Jesus  !  let  me  hear  Thee  speak 

While  the  sunlight  fades  away, 

While  the  stars  in  beauty  break 

Through  the  gloom  with  crystal  ray. 

'Twas  Thy  wont  at  eventide 

With  Thy  mother  to  sit  long, 

Gazing  at  the  heavens  so  wide, 

Breathing  David's  pastoral  song. 

Oft  her  gentle  soul  would  droop 

With  a  strange  and  shadowy  fear, 

And  Thy  psalm  would  softly  stoop 
On  low  wings  to  give  her  cheer. 

Then  as  darkness  deeper  fell 

Rising  higher  Thy  voice  would  bear 
Messages  to  some  sweet  dell, 

When  Thy  kinsmen  tarried  there. 

Jesus  !  here  I  sit  and  long 

For  some  holy,  tender  word, 

For  some  echo  of  the  song 

That  to-night  in  heaven  is  heard. 


174 


BE  NOT  SILENT  UNTO  ME 


Be  not  silent  unto  me, 

Tell  of  mercy,  hope  and  peace  ; 
I,  Thy  kinsman,  wait  on  Thee 

For  Thy  merciful  release. 

Tell  me  of  unfailing  love, 

Tell  me  that  my  sin's  forgiven, 

Tell  me,  Thou  that  sit'st  above, 
There  is  rest  for  me  in  heaven. 

Jesus  !  Now  will  I  rejoice 

And  lie  down  and  take  my  rest, 
For  I  hear  Thy  gracious  voice, 

And  who  heareth  it  is  blest. 

Spread  Thy  mercy  o'er  the  lands, 
Bless  the  weary,  sick  and  poor, 

Rest,  O  Lord,  worn  hearts  and  hands, 
Shed  Thy  light  through  every  door, 


175 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


A  Little  Hymn  at   Even 

A  golden  light  is  in  the  West, 

A  heavenly  hope  is  in  my  breast : 

A  few  short  hours  and  morn  will  come, 

A  little  while  and  I  go  home. 

O  Father  !  well  I  know  the  love 
And  mercy  which  I  daily  prove  ; 
Infinite  love  that  comforts  me, 
A  tender  mercy,  rich  and  free. 

The  countless  stars  shine  clear  and  bright, 
And  make  a  temple  of  the  night ; 
Oh,  from  pure  hearts  may  anthems  rise 
To  Thee  enthroned  upon  the  skies  ! 

Soft  breezes  blow  from  out  the  West, 

Oh,  may  Thy  Spirit  bring  me  rest  ! 

Sweet  sounds  arise  from  fields  and  streams, 

May  heavenly  songs  steal  through  my  dreams. 


176 


A  LITTLE  HYMN  AT  EVEN 


The  dews  fall  silent  o'er  the  land, 
Shed  pardon  gently  from  Thy  hand  ; 
The  world  seems  fresh  and  calm  and  still, 
Immortal  God  !  my  spirit  fill. 

Long  time  I  gaze  upon  the  stars, 
Heaven  seems  to  burst  her  ancient  bars ; 
Ah,  then  !  by  faith  I'll  look  to  Thee 
All  night,  and  Thou'lt  descend  to  me. 


177 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Glorying  in  Jesus 

For  righteousness  I  hunger  and  I  thirst, 

Let  me  be  filled  with  Thy  sweet  mercy,  Lord 

Before  all  things  I  seek  Thy  kingdom  first, 
O  let  me  find,  according  to  Thy  word. 

With  feeble  hand  I  knock  upon  the  door, 
Let  it  be  opened  soon  lest  I  should  faint; 

With  tears  and  groans  Thy  pity  I  implore, 
O  listen  to  my  sorrowful  complaint. 

I  mourn  the  loss  of  many  hopes  and  joys, 
Let  me  be  comforted  by  Thy  rich  grace ; 

I  tire  of  all  earth's  sordid  dust  and  noise, 

Bring  Thou  my  spirit  to  Thy  hiding  place. 

O  nothing  have  I  done  all  worthily, 

No  fruit  have  I  to  just  perfection  brought, 

In  all,  in  all  but  failure  do  I  see, 

But  I  remember  what  my  Saviour  wrought. 

Yes  !  I  remember,  and  I  turn  to  Thee, 

That  never  failest  them  that  seek  Thy  face ; 

With  only  mercy  for  my  dying  plea ; 

Jesus  !  I  glory  in  Thy  love  and  grace. 


178 


SPIRITUAL  JOYS 


Spiritual  Joys 

Let  me  feed  among  the  lilies, 

Let  me  rest  beside  the  well, 
Touch  and  taste  the  fruits  so  precious 

In  the  fields  invisible. 

Let  me  love  the  things  eternal 

That  appear  when  sight  grows  dim, 

Glow  with  hopes  of  heavenly  music, 
And  the  sweet  undying  hymn. 

Even  now  the  world  all  holy 

Breaks  upon  the  vision  clear, 

God  enthroned  in  rays  of  beauty 
Seems  to  draw  so  very  near. 

Like  the  shadow  on  the  mountain 
From  the  cloud  that  passes  by 

Is  His  hand  of  peace  and  blessing 

Stretched  athwart  my  heavenward  eye. 

Like  the  shadow  on  the  fountain 
From  the  trees  that  wave  above 

Is  the  trembling  of  His  presence 
On  my  trembling  heart  of  love. 


179 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Thou  art  waiting  to  be  gracious, 
For  Thy  mercy,  Lord,  I  wait ; 

Blessed  be  the  name  victorious 

Which  has  opened  wide  the  gate  I 

Blessed  be  that  world  of  beauty 
And  the  festival  of  saints 

Now  prepared  for  souls  repentant, 
For  my  lowly  soul  that  faints  I 


1 80 


MY  PORTION 


My  Portion 

Christ  is  my  spirit's  light 
At  morn  and  noon  and  night ;  .     . 

My  heart  is  fresh  with  dews  of  grace, 
Shed  from  His  dying  face. 

If  I  have  any  grief 

In  Him  I  find  relief, 

And  when  my  soul  takes  up  its  psalm 

He  poureth  richer  balm. 

And  when  my  spirit  weak 
Turns  toward  the  future  bleak, 
And  fears  dim  phantoms  of  the  tomb, 
He  scattereth  the  gloom. 

Within  His  face  so  kind 

All  comforts  do  I  find 

Against  that  hour  when  forth  I  go 

Beyond  those  scenes  of  woe. 

All  will  be  over  soon, 

The  wintry  afternoon 

Wins  golden  sunbeams  in  the  West, 

And  I  eternal  rest ! 


181 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


Where  Dwellest  Thou  % 

0  Master  mine,  where  dwellest  Thou  ? 

Wilt  bid  me  come  and  see  ? 

1  fain  would  be  where  Thou  art  now, 

And  through  eternity. 

Long  time  I  wandered  sad  and  lone, 
Through  paths  of  aimless  toil, 

Finding  no  answer  to  my  moan, 
For  wounds  no  healing  oil. 

Fainting  I  fall  along  the  way 

I  knew  Thou  passest  by 
On  gracious  errands  every  day, 

And  so  would  hear  my  sigh. 

I  feel  forsaken  in  the  earth 
And  long  for  endless  rest ; 

I  cannot  bear  their  empty  mirth, 
O  take  me  to  Thy  nest ! 

For  I  am  like  a  weary  dove 

With  broken,  trembling  wings: 

Unless  Thou  stretch  Thy  arms  of  love 
To  Whom  my  spirit  clings, 


182 


WHERE  DWELLEST  THOU? 


I  cannot  reach  the  pleasant  door 

Where  Thy  disciples  are, 
Nor  greet  the  saints  that  evermore 

Thy  daily  bounties  share. 

My  raiment  is  all  soiled  and  torn, 

Unfit  for  Thy  abode, 
My  visage  is  all  marred  and  worn, 

With  many  a  crushing  load. 

But  I  have  heard  of  garment  bright 

Laid  up  within  Thy  store, 
And  bread  and  wine  and  oil  to  light 

The  brow  and  heart  that's  sore. 

And  I  have  heard  that  none  who  sought 

Have  ever  sought  in  vain, 
Though  nothing  in  their  hands  they  brought 

To  give  to  Thee  again. 

I  feel  Thy  powerful  arm  uphold ; 

My  senses  fade  away  ; 
But  when  I  wake  the  realms  of  gold 

Shall  shine  in  morning's  ray  ! 


183 


DECEMBER  MUSINGS 


The  Shepherd's  Voice 
S.  John  10  :  4 

I  know  His  voice.     It  is  the  Shepherd's  call. 

It  is  the  Lord  !     I  must  arise  and  go : 
He  bids  me  follow  Him  and  leave  you  all 

A  little  while.     A  stranger  calls  not  so. 

I  knew  I  should  not  hear  that  voice  in  vain, 

There  would  be  something  in  it  rare  and  sweet, 

From  answering  which  my  heart  could  not  refrain, 
And  follow  which  I  must,  with  eager  feet. 

I  knew  if  once  He  called  my  heart  would  leap 
As  lightning  from  the  east  e'en  to  the  west: 

For  when  He  calls,  He  putteth  forth  His  sheep, 
To  lead  them  to  the  shadows  where  they  rest. 

I  knew  He  ne'er  would  leave  me  all  alone — 
Though  all  alone  for  love  of  me  He  died — 

But  come  Himself  and  roll  away  the  stone, 
And  make  the  path  of  His  salvation  wide. 

For  He  has  led  and  taught  me  all  the  years, 
And  He  has  daily,  hourly  called  me  friend: 

I  knew  the  gladness  would  cast  out  the  fears, 
For  having  loved,  He  loves  unto  the  end. 


184 


8       November  2,  1918  THE  LIVI 

PASSING  OF  TWO  BISHOPS  FROM  THE 
CHURCH  MILITANT 

CHE  last  full  week  in  October  saw  the  departure  of  two 
bishops  from  the  field  of  the  American  Church.  On 
October  21st,  in  historic  Saybrook,  Conn.,  died  the  Rt.  Rev. 
Charles  Sauford  Olmsted,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  Colorado  since 
1902.  On  the  following  day,  in  Chicago,  the  Rt.  Rev.  Francis 
Key  Brooke,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  Oklahoma  almost  from  the 
opening  of  the  territory  which  has  grown  into  a  great  state, 
followed  his  episcopal  brother  "over  the  great  divide". 

"With    sincere    sorrow,"    writes    a    correspondent    from 
Western    New   York,    "the    news   was   received   here    of    the 
death  of  the  Bishop  of  Colorado.    During  the  last  six  months 
of  the  late  Bishop  Walker's  life  Bishop  Olmsted  had  come 
to  his  assistance,  and  while  going  about  the  diocese  he  made 
many  friends  by  his  sweet  personality,  gentle  manner,  and 
exquisite  but  simple  pulpit  diction.     When  further  episcopal 
visitations  were  needed  last  spring  there  was  a  general  desire 
expressed  by  the  clergy  that  Bishop  Olmsted  might  be  asked 
tr*  mol-o  tile™       TTo  ola^^jaetirjjpscpA,  .althonch  it  was  much 
pauStssB  asanoa  Jiaq}  uns  jo  uit?a  uj 
'M.og  A"aq:}  st?  SaiSais  pay 
'uAiop  SapioCea  una  sjaAia  aqx>» 

•B9S  aq;  spug  aqs  aaojag 

}soi  si  aaq  jo  aunm  A"jaA  aq;  pay 

'ifTmb  aoa  lauqAi  jou  asnoqajBAi 

'jaid  aoa  }aod  J8A8U  q^tjq  anjtfH  }n9 

•    •    •    -api;  A"aaA8  q;iAV  q;jaq  oa 

PIjoav  aq;  \\v  raoaj  sdiqs  A"ia;t?}s  pay 

'appd  pau  qjiuaM.  pni?  jaA\.od  ai 

T?as  aq;  o;  napi?ojq  saaAu  aqx„ 

3NHVTC  3HX  dO  iHCTCD  3HX„ 

I  „ouii{5j  o\{%  jo  %svd  Suipunos  se[Snq„ 
ino  Jtjaq  9A\  rpqs  uaq^  '\\v  OAoqtf  auiBj^; — unsays  9\n}{  qsiS 
-3njs  i9ir|0UB  £uvm  'jos^  'auiuiog  :A\io;siq  ut  pozipi-iouraii 
9q  r[iAY  ^X6X  Mojoq  J°  pJBaqun  sauieu  .raArjj  jdpiuoj,i{Q 
uopuo^   aq^   ui   'q;iuiy    xo^    Q   A*q   rsi   sihx  (iooo  AN.0JJ 


juoi^BJ^sn^t  aq;  joj  sb[U  'mq  fo^qujiuipB  si  ^uauix^uas  oqx 

^•Siiiuuiav  q^JOAv  puB  'uoav  aq  o;  azud  v  su  diqs 


831 

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■  ;..-■:: 


